Her bottom lip was sticking out, but he couldn’t see it. Instead, her rear side was a pict

Her bottom lip was sticking out, but he couldn’t see it. Instead, her rear side was a picture of composure, the slightest dip of her head the only indication that she was pouting at all. It was the sterness of his words, more than anything. 

The shirt was shrugged from her shoulders. She had only put it on to get a smell of him while he was away. She didn’t think he’d mind, she’d presumed it would be just fine, another way for her to show quite how enamoured and giddy he made her. 

She presumed too much. Now she would get the bench. 

(Picture by Robert McGinnis)