Soothing

It hurts.

That’s all I can say. Or rather, that’s all I can whimper. It hurts.

I lie back, stretching my legs on the fresh linen sheet that covers my bed. My baked nectarine flesh radiates sunburnt fever that blazes through its coolness in an instant.

He squeezes the gel in a line from the top of my ankle to just below my knee. Cold. Very cold. I like it.

Gentle fingers spread the balm with a delicate touch. My nerves send alerts up my shins, rapid-fire cries of alarming distress, but I clench my teeth together and dismiss them. The aloe needs time to penetrate. To heal.

Once finished, he kisses my forehead and turns off the light before leaving. Cricket songs join with the breeze through my window, carrying the promise of dusk that will temper the day.