Harley leans on his shoulder, skimming his ring finger along the contour of Veronica's nose from tip to brow. He finds every little bit of her amazing. If you asked him for preferences he would only smile, but just now it's this nose that enchants him, all delicate planes and arches. A nose like no other. His finger comes up to the bridge, a sudden retreat where the flesh draws down tight and golden.
"Where'd you get this?" he asks.
"It's a long story," she tells him. "American
history."
Eastgate
Fiction Nonfiction
Poetry Hypertext
Storyspace Tinderbox
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