100 words on Love: Romance

I told him I would meet him for a kiss. His choice, an overgrown churchyard ringed by an elaborate wrought iron fence. It was a sticky city summer and the small passing rainstorm was a relief, and kept us pinned below the canopy of a huge old tree. He had eaten strawberries and his kiss was warm, fragrant and lit up with the sweetness. It made me want to press in tighter, grip the rough peeling bars of the fence and pull him into, through me. And then he slipped away. I have never seen him again.