Hideaway
As the deluge curtails our escape plans, we seek shelter within a dense copse of trees like children playing hideaway. The storm rages against the world and so do you; both having age-old scores to settle. I fear neither, knowing both will calm in time.
Morning comes. I watch the sun’s viridescent rays sneak through our protective canopy to dance playfully across your sleeping face, softening the worry lines I know so well.
“I think I love you,” I whisper. You do not stir. The eager breeze promises to keep my secret, but gossips with the leaves as it passes.
Written in response to Friday Fictioneers, a weekly 100-word writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Come and play along!
Thomas Charles Henry 
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