"Are you quite sure you should be doing that?" Rory's hands were stuck in the pockets of his trousers as he glanced about, valiantly ignoring the sign nailed to a nearby fence imploring the customers not to climb the trees. He was just short of casual whistling.
Amy stretched her fingertips out and the parabolic curve of the apple, crimson red in the golden autumn sunlight, bobbed gently in the air just beyond her reach. "Yes," she said shortly, and blew back a bit of her hair which had come loose and was trying to stick itself to her mouth. "Of course I should be."
She dragged her body, hooked awkwardly around the branch, another scant inch forward, and the branch bowed gracefully under her, a little closer to the Earth.
"Oh, right, because I was thinking the sign said please climb our apple trees as much as possible, so what you're doing makes perfect sense."
"It's..." she bit her tongue as the skin of the apple brushed her fingers for the first time, "it's the perfect apple." She smiled as she finally connected, giving the stem a stern yank, and tossed the apple down to him. It hung suspended between them for a split-second, caught between the Earth and the sky, a planetary body in meager orbit.
Rory caught the apple one handed, neatly plucking it out of the air. Her husband, clad in a warm wool jumper with his hair a bit long and threatening to fall messily over his forehead like a boy's, and the only thing you might notice different about him is that he didn't look at his hand as he caught the apple. He glanced, instead, to each side, and with exaggerated nonchalance tossed the apple into the tote bag at his feet, as cool as a jewel thief.
Amy rotated about the branch, letting gravity swing her body downward like a sloth's, and untangled her legs to let her feet drag in the breeze. "Ready?" she asked, the bark biting into her hands and her arms stretched long.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-10-07 10:42 pm (UTC)Amy stretched her fingertips out and the parabolic curve of the apple, crimson red in the golden autumn sunlight, bobbed gently in the air just beyond her reach. "Yes," she said shortly, and blew back a bit of her hair which had come loose and was trying to stick itself to her mouth. "Of course I should be."
She dragged her body, hooked awkwardly around the branch, another scant inch forward, and the branch bowed gracefully under her, a little closer to the Earth.
"Oh, right, because I was thinking the sign said please climb our apple trees as much as possible, so what you're doing makes perfect sense."
"It's..." she bit her tongue as the skin of the apple brushed her fingers for the first time, "it's the perfect apple." She smiled as she finally connected, giving the stem a stern yank, and tossed the apple down to him. It hung suspended between them for a split-second, caught between the Earth and the sky, a planetary body in meager orbit.
Rory caught the apple one handed, neatly plucking it out of the air. Her husband, clad in a warm wool jumper with his hair a bit long and threatening to fall messily over his forehead like a boy's, and the only thing you might notice different about him is that he didn't look at his hand as he caught the apple. He glanced, instead, to each side, and with exaggerated nonchalance tossed the apple into the tote bag at his feet, as cool as a jewel thief.
Amy rotated about the branch, letting gravity swing her body downward like a sloth's, and untangled her legs to let her feet drag in the breeze. "Ready?" she asked, the bark biting into her hands and her arms stretched long.
"Always," he said.
Amy let go.