She rolled over and faced King, pulling the blanket closer around her feet. She ran her fingers through his beard. It took up half of his face and she liked the scruffy feel on her fingers.

King moved his face and kissed her open palm and she uttered to him, “You’re so beautiful.” Did he care that she described him with a feminine word? He didn’t mutter a complaint.

“Thank you.” He rubbed his face in her hand and she caressed his chin, his beard tickling her, “You’re so gorgeous.”

Her lips twitched at his words. “Stop it. You don’t…

Opeyemi Ojo (OPME)

Opeyemi Ojo took a hiatus from poetry to focus on a newfound love for short stories. She soon returned to poetry, proving that you never forget your first.

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