Blind This work is copyright M.A. Mohanraj 1996, all rights reserved. Please don't repost this or make it publically accessible via FTP, mail server, or archive site without my explicit permission.
Permission is granted for one hard copy for personal use.
Five minutes in which to toss the egg-stained dishes in the dishwasher and shut the door, in which to grab a sponge from the sink and quickly unbutton my blouse, sponging off the summer sweat from underarms and under heavy breasts, five minutes until the knock on the back door. But Charlie is gone, as he usually is, and so I am the one opening the door to Peter's cheerful smile, and with a quick fluttery glance at Kate and Alison's down the hall door, he slips inside and the door is shut and I am caught up in his arms, in his eyes, in him. I must lean against the wall, hands braced flat, fingers down or I will fall. His hands, big, rough, incongruously broad for an artist's hands are around my waist now and lifting me up and onto him. Peter thinks that I am on the pill.