The tines of the silver having speared the dried cranberry and grilled Portobello, both of which drawn to your mouth---you had wanted just a salad. A mix of selected greens, purplish curls and the medium gold of sautéed garlic sprinkled over the dual tones of the just perfectly seasoned mushroom. A drizzle of the pale oil blended with the rustiness of the offered vinegar. I was sure to have their merlot. You had asked to have a sip. That particular shade of lipstick, pumpkin bronze I believe, carefully outlined and provided the matching accent to the deep auburn which played over your eyes.
Just the barest tremulous glow of orange from the torches illuminating the courtyard five stories below our window. The breeze periodically arranging the white linen curtain into the bedroom. Just shades of black and gray in our immediacy…our movements against and for each other sharing no real color for the present.
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