Send ‘Kissed’ and I’ll generate a number from 1 to 45 to determine where your muse has kissed mine and how my muse reacts!
As with everything, even the most basic forms of research tend to have their own inherent dangers ( hazards ) to them.
Rosalind has long since lost count of how often she finds a new bruise or cut adorning her body; it's been a common o- ccurrence since she was very young, something she has ac- cepted and even come to embrace. After all, how better to show that one has put their time and effort into their work than to display the physicals markings of their endeavors?
This one, she notes, is on the inside of her wrist, colored in- tricately with purples and blues to indicate the relative fresh- ness of the injury. Honestly, the woman can't remember from where she received it, but as she moves to rebutton her shirt sleeve after her brief examination, she feels fingers carefully pinching at the skin just above the bruise in order to stop her.
She finds out quickly that the fingers belong to Gilbert Alex- ander, a coworker that Rosalind has, admittedly, not spent as much time conversing with as she would have liked to.
“ Good morning, Mr. Alex... “
The words die in her throat, crawling to a halt as the man bends at the waist, simultaneously lifting her wrist to his lips. Rosalind, for all her eloquence and elegance, fails to formulate a single thought as Gilbert's lips meet the ugly injury marring the cream-colored skin so regularly hidden beneath the sleeves of her shirts and suit jackets.
“ ... I haven't believed that ki- sses heal wounds since I was a little girl, Mr. Alexander... “
