Her When she kissed him, she tasted like a rainy..

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Her When she kissed him, she tasted like a rainy July night out in the starlit street and he wanted more. Her skin was hot against him like a breezeless mid-day at the end of August but her hair was still wet and cool as though she had soaked it in a bucket of December snow. She made his head swim with color, as though he were bathing in the dead, red Fall leaves and the deep-blue January sky. To him, she was all the time; all the seasons mixed into one. And he thanked God for her, his Christmas present in June and Fourth of July in March.