Drabble #71 – Plum Tea

A soft, welcome laugh, you brush my hand. The shimmery oil rubbed into your skin glints in the light, catches the spot where you touched me. The grasshoppers are a low, distinct hum that fills the empty spaces lulling between topics. Before I know it, you are standing to refill a glass I hadn’t noticed I was drinking. I keep losing pockets of time. You brush my hand, seated again, and more fractures of light catch my eye where your fingers are peeking from the folds of your sleeve. Eyes like gems look back at me, speckled with laughter and glowing in the mid-summer heat. My breath stutters to a halt.