He gathered her unbound hair and started working through it with the comb from the top of her head down to its ends, which brushed the floor. It was impossible to concentrate on anything except the warmth of his breath on her neck, the way his fingers brushed against her back, or her arms, or the lobe of her ear. This state of suspension, him brushing and her sitting so still lest she utter his name or throw herself into his arms, was almost painful, and yet she dared not move for fear of breaking the connection. Anji was a patient man, very disciplined, and she began to wonder if he meant to comb her hair all night just to see who would break first. And because she was so very tired, and wrung tight, and aching with misery and hope, she began to laugh, a little hysterically perhaps, but laughter all the same even if there were sobs caught in it. He set the comb on the tray. “Enough, Mai,” he said, his voice husky with desire, perhaps with satisfaction, perhaps with anger still simmering. He embraced her, pulling her close. “Enough.” –Kate Elliott, Traitors’ Gate

Fiction Writing Prompt: Write a scene or poem about a couple who has had a fight and how they make up.

Journaling Prompt: How do you make a conciliatory gesture after a fight?

Art Prompt: Making up

Non-Fiction / Speechwriting Prompt: Tell a humorous story about a fight you had with someone important to you.

Photo Credit: Pray for Peaceful Dream on Flickr

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