The Fucking Crack Series is, in spite of its ironical and metaphorical title, a bunch of some very little stories, with few connections between them, that are the outcomes of my „sometimes” distorted reality and imagination.
So, I’m not exactly beside myself with all that, but, as someone once said, my mind wonders so much it brings home souvenirs...
Some of them will be nice and some not, but they all are related with reality at some point.
I hope you can make something more out of it. ;)
Motto: When you feel like a crack inside a fucking heart it means that you are a fucking crack.
„Coming through...”
He came in, through the opened door, heading towards her with a large smile on his face.
Long time no see.
Hearing steps, she was rising her eyes in that direction, laying the book she was reading, down on the wooden floor. As she perceived his presence, she instinctively tried to stand up from the floor, but the plaster on her wounded leg didn’t agree. For a short moment she forgot she was disabled from walking at the time.
In his way to reach her, he made a slightly sign, for her not to get up, briefly frowning, and that he would have come to her much faster that she could have ever had.
And in the exact next second he was right there, down on the carpet, kneeling in front of her, no words, just keep smiling and putting his arms around her.
He kissed her now-blushing cheeks and kept his hug for two seconds. Then, intending to let go, he heard her quiet sight tickling near his right ear..
„- Not yet. Just for once, hold me until I consider it enough. Let me choose when it’s time to stop that.”
Surprised? He must have been. But not that much, she knew.
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