bathroom.
Two bodies, now one, fell onto the bed in an embrace more smoldering, more feverish than Nina could ever imagine. Still kissing, they grabbed pillows and tossed them aside like confetti. They threw them across the room, hitting lamps, books, the window curtain. The thud of pillows against glass and metal became background music to the rending of clothing, the moans, the twisted linens.
Joe’s deep-throated kisses filled Nina’s lungs with air, she had never breathed as deeply as she did now, inhaling, exhaling. Over the next few hours, he mended the rip in her heart, and the hope she had given him in wooing back his wife was reciprocated ten-fold. Hours passed and Nina stared at Joe as the two lay side-by-side in the shadows. The outline of his belly reminded her of a mountain, his nose and chin were small stones. He pressed her hand, she pressed back and no words were exchanged. Only understanding. She noticed how he filled up the king-size bed just fine, just right, and that was enough. Finally, Nina got up and, as promised, put his shirt, pants, underwear, and socks in the washer with a cup of detergent. The machine’s hum made her smile, as did the whoosh of the bathroom shower and the memory. She surveyed the living room and took note of all the furniture and random things she didn’t need. She could sell it all on Craigslist. It will be nice to clear out this place a bit, she thought. She looked toward the kitchen and that empty space.
What a good place to start.