“Paradise,” he sighed and put his arm round her, as if this was his creation and he was adding her to the picture. “What a shame we only booked a week. If only I’d know it would be like this.”

She looked from the oily waves that rose and fell, glittering red in the westering sun, to the forest that strode down to the beach. The sand was an almost luminous silver, but the trees were already full of shadows.

“Shouldn’t we find the hotel before we—”

“Lodge. It isn’t a hotel.” His voice had an edge of irritation.

“Lodge then. I’d like to get acquainted with the plumbing and the kitchen facilities before we start exploring.”

He sighed audibly and picked up two of the bags. “It’s only through the trees, I expect. What’s the panic?”

She shrugged. “Just what I said. I’d like a shower and something to eat first.”

Continue reading: Microfiction #writephoto: Paradise – Jane Dougherty Writes