The Muse…When the Honeymoon is Over

S.L. Shelton

feet-932346_1920    She walked into my study, her fuzzy bunny slippers slapping her heels with each step. “You have something for me?”

I looked up from my computer and smiled thinly, apologetic, before shaking my head. “Sorry. I’m working on it though.”

She lingered in the doorway, cupping her coffee mug with both hands. Her robe wasn’t completely closed, but she was wearing pajamas beneath–red and brown plaid flannel pajamas. She still hadn’t removed her curlers from the night before–I briefly wondered if that was bad for her hair.

“Focus,” she said, squinting before her glare melted into a smile–she always knew when I wasn’t thinking about my writing. She shuffled over, her bunny slippers flapping, and kissed my neck before leaving the room.

I could feel the stirring of a scene as the warmth from her kiss sank into my flesh. Ahh…my muse.

girl-504636_1280As with any romantic relationship, the one…

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