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In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

In Over Her Head by Elsie Russell - Parnasse.com

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eyed into empty space.<br />

"This is the happiest day of my life," he announced to the<br />

ceiling. "I am the happiest man of the world."<br />

"<strong>In</strong> the world."<br />

He turned and whispered in her ear, "You make me this."<br />

"Sandro..." Penny began. He rolled on top of her and kissed her<br />

lips, her throat.<br />

"O, Mia vita. Can I make you happy? As happy as me?"<br />

Penny nodded helplessly.<br />

"We will pay for this."<br />

"Pessimist."<br />

"Penelope, love me always."<br />

"Forever."<br />

"Per sempre. I love you per sempre. I live inside you, it is<br />

paradise."<br />

He reached for her breasts.<br />

"Most beautiful in the world. This one, and this one, how<br />

friendly. O, Penelope, I love you so much, so much."<br />

He lay his head peacefully between them and she streamed her<br />

fingers through his hair.<br />

Night fell in shades of gray. They heard sounds outside the<br />

door, not much, just enough to guess who it must have been. No telling<br />

for how long, either. He got up, frowning. His arm tightened around<br />

Penny's shoulder as they stood on the other side of the door and held<br />

their breath.<br />

The door moved imperceptibly from contact with the ear held<br />

to it, and they heard the brush of her hand as she bent down to look<br />

through the keyhole. They froze, expecting the worst. <strong>In</strong>stead, she<br />

slowly rose, her hands sliding up the surface of the door. A mute note<br />

as she leaned her forehead, then in a cloying wave of contact, her entire<br />

body into the door, her hands suctioned flat and still on the wood.<br />

They could hear her breath behind the wood. Slowly, she moved away<br />

towards the library door, trailing her nails along the plaster. Sandro<br />

hugged Penny close, his heart pounding into her chest, until he was<br />

sure the danger was past.<br />

The blackened fireplace came to life after Sandro's ministrations<br />

and washed the room in a a tide of orange that ignited the room with<br />

gold: the frames, the satin damask coverlet lying in a heap at the foot of<br />

the bed, the roaring lion heads on his Vermeer chairs. She turned to his<br />

golden fractured face and looked deep into his eyes, where the fire<br />

140

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