A few 55 fiction pieces

“I’d die for you,” he looked at her waiting for her to look back.

“Stop being so dramatic,” she swatted at his hand, “it’s just a game.”

“Love isn’t a game.  Love is real.  This is real,” his eyes were burning a hole through her.

“No, this is Call of Duty.  Which is a game.”

 

The most beautiful name I can think of is Francesca.  The most beautiful girl I know carries that name, too.  Her dark hair and eyes put me in a trance whenever I see her.  I’m in love with her.  I’ve told her this.  And even though she’s never returned those three words, I’ll never stop.

 

I’m sorry I made a mistake and that you were in the way of it.  You deserved better and I need to let you go, but its not easy.  It’s hard saying goodbye to you.  Someone I had to stop knowing before I wanted to.  You’re someone I told that I loved and you left.

 

I never liked wine but I liked her and since she liked wine I always kept some around.  She would drink it and I would watch as her smile loosened along with her dress.  Her eyes told me when she was ready.  Her lips said when she was hungry.  Her body spoke a different language.

 

I care too much.  I need to stop that fucking habit.  I want the world to miss me just a little bit, and even then its never enough.  I’m getting there though.  Sometimes I don’t give a shit.  Sometimes my middle finger is sore from how often it gets a workout.  Sometimes fuck the world.

 

If I could spend my life locked in a moment between your thighs I’d beg for eternity.  Let me get drunk on your sex.  Take advantage of my hunger and don’t think.  Arch your back and dig your heels into my shoulders.  Fill the air with your voice.  I want to make your body quake.

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