I don’t wanna touch it, don’t wanna know the feel of her skin. I won’t get lost in her eyes. I’ll never hear the sound of her sighs. I don’t want to feel her kiss, the softness of her lips I won’t miss. My song writing talents are horse piss. Rachel drummed out a little beat on the wall of the shower as she rinsed shampoo from her hair as a real song began to play in her mind—“Trouble” by Lindsey Buckingham. She’d always loved it, but at the moment, it seemed like the theme song for her life. The thoughts that ran amok in her mind were troublesome. Faith had caused her nothing but trouble prior to their truce, and in peace time, it was no different. That evil imp had found a new way to torment her. The irony of it, though, was that Faith had no clue. This thing, this bizarre craving had crept up on Rachel before she had time to fend it off. She was totally infected. The only possible cure was space and time, and that wasn’t an option at camp. Get it together. Remember the crush you had on the water delivery woman?
What do You think about The Summer Of Our Discontent?
