
I see him outlined against the window in a busy café— his wool hat on the table beside a muffin and a cup of tea— a portrait from a bygone era and a study in longevity. He barely moves except to sip his tea. I walk up to say hello— he looks up and smiles, his teeth a shining white— they might be false but who cares? I catch the morning sun’s rays in his eyes; they cannot lie nor fake their light. We talk— it is so easy to converse, to steep in his cup, a rich brew he stirs slowly and thoughtfully— I wait in no hurry to leave. © Neetu Malik
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My palm itches with the desire to tame her.
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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