Comforting

Harleen closed her eyes to the darkness as Pamela stroked her chapped lips. She’d been feeling under the weather the past couple of days, but never sick enough to ignore Pam’s gentle touches and kisses.

She reopened her eyes to see the moon’s light sneaking into their bedroom through the hastily closed blinds. Pam’s red hair seemed to sparkle at night, and her green eyes always seemed to glow.

This was love, she’d been told. Easiness. Quietness. Softness.

Not brutality. Not pain. Not sadistic hilarity.

Harleen blinked and tried to focus on the invisible patterns Pamela traced with her fingertips.