Jane Jago’s Drabbles – Four Hundred and Twenty-Eight

While Yannis put the clock forward an hour I lay and watched the play of muscle and sinew under his skin.

“It would be nice,” I said idly, “if we could turn the clocks far enough forward to bypass corona virus.”

“Be careful what you wish for. Have you never heard of Rip Van Winkle?”

I laughed and snuggled into his broad back.

I awoke at daylight, and looked over at Yannis – finding in his stead an old white-haired man. I reached a wrinkled hand out to him.

He clasped it and smiled.

“That virus lasted a long time.”