The Porch
“It sure is a pretty night. That little rainstorm certainly cooled it off right nice, didn’t it?” The orange and pink sun slid down behind the cornfield on the Logan’s farm as Sofia braided Imara’s hair.
“Mmm-hmm.” Her green eyes blinked a few times as Imara nodded and peeked out into the distance. “Thorin.” Her finger pointed out at the eyes staring back at her. “There’s my Sweetheart. He came back to me.”
The creaking of the rocking chair against the porch’s wood slats stopped as Shaw sat up straight and glared out over the yard. “Are you crazy? I don’t see anything.”
“Well, you are a human, so your vision is shit.” His hand grasped at the windowsill and brought the swing to a halt as Thorin leaned forward to catch a glimpse. “There he is on the edge of the lawn.”
Pouty red lips pulled together to whistle, and Imara patted her leg. “Come here, Sweetheart. Don’t be afraid.”