130: Behind Apollo's Throne

Sunlight slips around the curtain. Softly, still reaching for awareness of its full power, it splatters the sheets with gold and silver, and plays across her closed eyes and naked back. She hums, arms folded on the pillow under her cheek. Her clothes lie neatly folded on the wooden chair across the room, but her alarm has yet to wake.

While she waits, she feels the light, like gently calloused palms, wander across her back, tracing her spine from top to bottom and back up, then carefully cover her shoulder blades with their warmth. Brushing her hair onto the pillow, they touch their lips to the nape of her neck in a whisper of good morning.

How softly the fire burns before it reaches inferno, she muses into her pillow.

Eventually her alarm awakes. She smiles and opens eyes that set the world ablaze. 

Written by: Katrine H. (@katrinehjulstad on Instagram)