Elizabeth and Ben walked carefully, slowly, hand and in hand back to Ben's slate house in Cambridge.
The tastes of the Moroccan meal, cumin and preserved lemons, lingered on their palates.
It had gone past 9 pm and although the time reckoned sleep, their afternoon nap had placed them on languorous Italian or even spirited Spanish time. Filled with the surprise invasion of energy, they ran laughing, like children unleashed in summer, towards Harvard Yard. Dark and dimly lit, tiny patch of green, glorified and iconic turned out to be a fulfilling place for two seasoned adults to make out.
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As always, your writing is just so sensual, I want to live in it! This is a fabulous short scene. Rendered in really beautiful language.
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