licia Baptiste. The name leapt out at Helen from the poster of coming events, like in one of those 3D films.
She glanced up at Peter, her mouth half open with the half intention
of mentioning it. His eyes narrowed in question. But then it was their turn to step forward to buy tickets for the film. In the dark, she took his hand to feel its warmth and reassurance. She watched his profile in the shifting light from the screen, the definite brow and strong jaw. He felt remote, looked at in the way a stranger might. His hand squeezed hers before withdrawing. They strolled along the backroads afterwards, breath frosting in the winter air. ‘Insightful,’ he said. ‘Pretentious,’ she countered. Her half intention remained unspoken. Too late now. In bed, Peter’s lips pressed lightly against hers. ‘Goodnight,’ he said. ÉCLAT FICTION
The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com