Under neon starlight we hold hands and walk along the strip, our fifth meeting since the days of reading messages from one another on computer screens, our faces lit by their pallid glare, as we smiled our first joint smiles.
Now, our faces and arms change colour- alien green, sea monster blue, blushing red- as we smile ever bigger smiles.
Under neon starlight we consummate our love, light guiding the way before we learn it by heart; or because we moved too fast to turn off the lights.
In a world of artifice, I think we have found real life.
Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot
I found your play with light, and possibly comparing it with love, fascinating. Well done. I really like your take on this prompt.
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