Gestures Not Made

by Thom Gabrukiewicz

Hair cascades down fingers that cover her sleeping face; crumpled covers bunch at her hips, where she's kicked them free. He watches. The soft rise and fall of her ribs; the freckles, the birthmark he liked to kiss. They'd argued. He reaches out to touch her but she rolls, mews a whisper. His hand hovers; in that instant, he pulls back.


Thom Gabrukiewicz, author of Cornered, is a working journalist on the Left Coast who wishes someone would notice his other musings and offer him a big, fat book advance. He blogs here.


chriswasil said...

I really like this piece, Thom. To me, it reflects similar challenges we all have throughout our lives. For whatever reason, something (pride? ego?) stops us from fully expressing the love we feel for others, even for those who are most important to us, and we "pull back" like the narrator.

reynolds said...

Great comment, chris. Great writing, thom.

Joe said...

Pure artistry. Exceptional.

Adam J. Whitlatch said...

Beautiful and tragic at the same time. Well done.