copyright-Douglas MacIlroy
Penny sat across the room from Steven. The ritual of lit candles was completed and it was time to write. Her fingers rested on the home keys, but no words came. Instead, she eyed her new husband.
He was yelling at the television, which she found endearing. As the years progressed, would she begin to hate it? Would he loathe the way she savored her writing time? Penny sat the laptop down, walked over and cuddled up next to Steven.
‘Love, you taste like peanut butter.’ He kissed her.
‘Yeah? Well, you yell at the television like my father does.’
‘Round about 100 Words/Genre: Romance, of course
Thank you Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers. It is an honor and a privilege to have Ms. Rochelle critique my work. Please be sure to go to her page and read their stories too. We are a rather eclectic group and the genres run the gamut.
I welcome kudos and criticism. Seriously, rip it up if you want.
Renee Writes Here 
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