Island

Because I haven't written random prose in a long, long while.

Like tracing the lines of dust along an old patient bookshelf, she brushed her fingertips over the knots of his spine in the easy summer sun. It glinted off his dark reddish skin jealously, realizing that he was far brighter than the simple mid-morning bath of light it shed upon him.

The palms swayed overhead and tiny crabs emerged from their burrrows to battle each other with their minutely perilous purple claws, unconcerned about the pair of castaways close by.

"I love you," she said, reminding him.

"And you I love," he mumbled back into the tattered blanket that was spread over the dunes.

"Mmm," she added absentminedly as her hand stole along the familiar path of his shoulder blade, the smooth plane like ceramic in comparision to her dull, somewhat knobby fingers, "I just want to make sure you know."

"It's the one thing I'm sure I know, Desiree," he pointed out, "I don't know anything about you."

"That makes two of us, Kiran," Des observed wistfully. And then Kiran sighed like he always did, wishing he could fill in the blanks that Des had never worried over since she'd lost all memories from before the storm that changed their lives.

"Don't sigh," she said, lying down beside him and worming her way into his arms.

"Why can't I sigh?"

"Because it makes me sad. Because you're sad. We don't have to be sad right?"

Gazing into her Carribean blue eyes, there was no way to avoid the question. She gazed at him with such intensity that he could only answer, "Right."

Which led Des to close her eyes and kiss him gently, her fingers still swirling in endless circles over the surface of his back.

"How long have we been here Desiree?" Kiran asked quietly.

"Three hundred and ninety-two days," Des replied; her memory since she had awoken on the shore of the island after the shipwreck was perfectly intact.

Kiran sighed again, but differently. A smile played at the corners of his mouth before he kissed Des back more fiercely, only pulling away briefly to reply, "Then I should hope for three hundred and ninety-two more."

The End

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