Week 6 - “Heat Wave”
It’s a balmy, summer afternoon. The miserable sort, where one wishes to peel their skin off just for respite. It’s a good thing then that the couple are half-dressed, necking at one another out in the open field.
“God, it’s so hot,” She says, head tilted back to squint at the searing light above them.
“Yeah, so hot,” He echoes lasciviously, hands halfway up her shirt.
“No, you idiot, really hot. Don’t you feel it?”
He’s hardly interested. “Sure. Global warming. So what?”
“I don’t know,” She glances at him warily. “You don’t feel anything… off?”
“The only thing off right now should be this,” He drags her hands onto his pants in invitation.
She obliges reluctantly. “Right.. Hah..”
They roll over, a fumble of touch and undressing, in clumsy youth. Pressed against the humid earth, lips and tongues and teeth and skin. She bares her throat to him and feels the tacky grass underneath her fingers. Her hands unconsciously grip and uproot the blades.
Except the texture is off - not soft, but hard. Surprised, she stares at them in her palm, the look of almost.. plastic twist ties. Dyed yellowish-green and cut in almost accurate recreation.
“Babe, babe,” She pants. “Something’s wrong.”
He lifts his head up. “What? What’s wrong?”
She extends out the blades of grass towards him. It takes him a solid twenty seconds before he lets out an amused scoff.
“Are you screwin’ with me?”
“No, seriously, feel it. Look at it.”
He spares a parting glance. “It’s just dry due to the drought or something. C’mon,” He brushes away the grass from her hand and cups her cheek, “Are you gonna focus on me or the damn grass?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” She laughs flatly. “Heh-heh. The heat’s just probably getting to me.”
“Clearly,” He chuffs, pressing kisses down her throat. “I’ll just have to work extra hard to keep your attention, huh?”
“Ohhh yess.”
She surrenders to his ministrations. But when she glimpses a moment at the sky, she can swear the sun shifts slightly to the left, as if manipulated by hand.
Which of course, it is.
Somewhere, a crane lamp tilts, and the being watches its pets with growing, fond interest. They’d be keepers, that it was sure of.
Oh, did it so love the new terrarium.
