Neon Nights

She squinted, flinging paint at him and running at him, intending to tackle him.

 

She was laughing deeply, holding the paintbrush in her hand.

"You realize that this is your own fault, right?"

 

She leaned down, a devilish smile on her face.

"And you do realize what I have to do now, right?"

 

"A face as handsome as yours?" she teased. "I would never."

 

She was holding the brush right by his face before she tapped it just under his nose, making a mustache.

"That was a warning," she told him.

 

"I lied," she replied playfully, getting off him.

 

"You look great," she said appreciatively, going back to painting.

 

(Zoop?)

 

She stood with her hands on her hips.

The room was softened with the light blue paint. Ophelia had made clouds, large white ones along the wall. She tilted her head, looking up at the blankets that hung from the ceiling like ship sails. The hammock was next to the small window.

 

She looked over at him, a playful grin on her face.

"It's perfect. Thank you for helping, Abel."