Strain of Thought

Author: umfumdisi

Date: May 2, 2007

by umfumdisi
5-02-07
Oh, Rincon's laugh melted my heart. It's mirthful tunes sounded like the clinking of ice in a cold, tall glass tumbler filled with Mohito.
Yet after I removed my shirt and felt Rincon's hands upon my quivering shoulders, something was wrong.
"Rincon," I accused, "You have been toying with me. Your hands are not those of a brickmason. They are smooth as fluffernutter sandwiches!"
Rincon paused. His grip weakened as did the barrier between us.
"I will share my secret with you and you only," Rincon whispered into my ear,
"When I lay bricks, I wear gloves."