A Season for Bloomers...
It was the summer of ’05. And we were in love, all consuming, unadulterated and absolute love. She wore frocks, pastel colored and covered in flowers. She was chubby and jolly and wore her curls with an attitude. And she used to smell like a baby. We were young and adventurous. And had all afternoons to ourselves, warm windy afternoons. Holding hands, playing with each other’s fingers, talking about the future, we were only 15. Completely oblivious to the rocky future we were going to have, we sat there swooning over each other, just breathing each other in. It was warm and she had a few buttons undone. Her dress slipped off of one shoulder, baring a portion of her beautiful full breast. She didn’t bother to straighten up even though I was looking. Right then, we knew. Things would happen. I was shy yet hopeful. And she read my mind. A storm was raging outside and it kept getting dark. We were close to each other, tiny whispers filling the space between us. Then she cau