He stumbled upon a black cloak lying at the curb, waited long enough to be sure nobody claimed the exquisite piece of cloth, before gracing his fingertips along the seams – marveling at how it felt soft yet firm to the touch.
Wearing the cloak like a second skin, certain no one would recognize the heart now concealed, he returned to the place he left behind, where the storm was wreaking havoc. He found her still sitting on her front porch, facing the sunset, admiring the hues of crimson and gold.
One glance and she broke down, for the cloak did very little to disguise what she knew so well – the ocean that was raging in his eyes.
© annie scribes 2017
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