Sun soaked green shutters, the soft warm Provencal evening basks in fields of golden sunflowers. Across the terrace heat shimmers and a ripe fig bursts its skin, sweet juice rich like honey caught with amber. A curtain moves in the breeze, a french window wide, unmade bed within, white sheets rumpled as bare foot lovers wander out, the stone terrace rubs a warm caress on smooth skinned heels. A cork pops from the palest rosé, the clink of glasses, and the lingering hot mouth taste of a stolen kiss.
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