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   Chapter 13 No.13

A Girl Named Sandy By Paul Kater Characters: 5693

Updated: 2018-02-11 12:04

Realisations of the hurting kind

Paul awoke, slowly. A faint banner of light fell over the bed as the early morning beam from the sun squeezed itself through a slit between the curtains. He became aware of the soft, warm body that lay against him, skin against skin, a calm breath touching his shoulder. Guilt washed through him. He should have said 'no'. Should have sent her back to her own bed. But he hadn't. She had come and given herself to him, and he had taken her. No, not that... he had accepted her. Where was your common sense, you fool, he wondered, when Sandy stirred slightly next to him. He noticed her arm over his chest only as she moved it a bit. She was so light, he thought. How would he feel when they were talking to Timothy and Adele next time? He felt that he had betrayed their trust. A while longer he lay there, mentally scolding himself, finding excuses for what happened and dismissing them as stupid, dumb, weak, unworthy. It was a soft touch on his cheek that dragged him back to the world; a gentle kiss from Sandy.

Sandy had been awake for a few minutes, simply basking in the warmth their bodies generated, feeling Paul against her, his arm around her. If only they were further in time, she thought, if only the stories that were told since so long could become real. They would all leave, and Paul would come with her. Her confusion rose though, as she sensed that his mind was somehow preoccupied. Their connection had become deep enough for her to notice that quite sharply. It was then that she wanted to distracted him from his ponderings, bring his awareness back to her, so she kissed his cheek. "Good morning, " she whispered in his ear. When he turned his h

rong turn. The message would have to wait, she realised. Maybe she had made an error in her judgement, maybe she should have waited a bit longer. But the moment had felt so right. As Paul started to pull the covers up to make her feel warm again, she held his hand. "No. Thank you, but no." She hated herself as she said it. "I should go and shower. And make coffee." Sandy did not wait for him to respond, she didn't even have the guts to look at him any more, so she scrambled off the bed and left the bedroom, biting away her tears. Those wouldn't show in the shower, but he should not see her cry now.

As she left, Paul sat up, his eyes following her until she was out of sight. A sigh, yet another one, escaped him. Her walking off made him feel empty, miss something that made him feel whole, but he knew he was lying to himself. He was old and she was young, so this was impossible. He fell back on his pillow and stared at the ceiling for a while, hearing the water from the shower rush. He tried not to think of her, which was difficult. Then he got up, put on some clothes and went into the kitchen. To make coffee.


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