Difficult, But Not Impossible

I see the scar on your arm, from a vaccination so many, many years ago, round and hollow, and I put my finger on it and press, as though it were a button. You hold me tighter, the both of us hidden from sight in the tall grass, and for the moment I forget where we are, if we are in a place near the sea or by a seldom used back road or in a country on the other side of the world. All I know is the soft rustle of high grass moving in the breeze and the feel of your hand pressing against the small bones of my back.

The buttons of my sweater prove difficult to unbutton.

Difficult, but not impossible.

Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *