Tough love Nigel Kent

Nigel Kent

Tough Love

He lies out flat along the bench; his head lost in her lap, feet barely touching the ground. She leans over, wanting to plant her lips on his, rouse him, like a princess might in a modern fairy tale, release him from the spell of sleep, but he’s no prince there’s engine oil beneath his fingernails –and though his eyes are tightly shut, he’s not asleep; he’s hiding, like the child who thinks he can’t be found by those he cannot see. He’s hiding from that busybody, Time, who’s intruded every day since their first sight, and who, despite his pleas, declines to stop.