Post 1548. Wednesday June 14
The moon beckons me through a gap in the curtains. I leave my bed, descend the stairs and stroll past the pool where late night revellers drunkenly sit, clutching empty glasses.
On the deserted beach pebbles crackle beneath my feet. I dip my toes in the water and gaze towards the shimmering horizon.
Someone takes my hand and leads me to a crooked rock. Back to back, we sit. Minutes go by. An hour. No words pass our lips, no need. When I glance over my shoulder she is gone.
I wander back to my hotel room, tightly close the curtains and slumber 'til dawn. Contented, satisfied.
For Friday Fictioneers which is hosted by Rochelle. This week's photo is provided by Dale Rogerson.