#story snapshot

Her knees were sore from crawling. Her palms were red from being placed one after the other, fingers splayed out to the sides, all day. 

She knew that she could get away with walking about when he wasn’t there. He couldn’t see her, couldn’t know that she hadn’t done exactly as he asked.

He would, though. It would be written all across her face the moment he stepped in through the door. He’d know because she wouldn’t want him not to.

And so she crawled. All day. Up until he stepped in the threshold and bent down to kiss her.