Mint by Brit Medlock

The smell of mint was in the air when he reached the top of the trail.

Strange, he thought, as he breathed it in.
The sun was at its highest, at its hottest, taunting the leaves, and yet the freshness of the plant cut through the glare.
He wandered on a little, shivering slightly.

She walked behind, finding something pleasant in her own pace. She was thinking of the rewards of the climb already, of iced lemon and shady nooks, of pastry in brown paper.

He paused, the city below him sitting with a quiet majesty. He drank it in, first thankfully, then greedily.

When he turned, he saw her breathe the mint as he had done. He watched it fill her lungs, and felt the hairs on her arms dance.

Eyes met and lips parted, just for a moment. He faltered.

It was nothing really, he'd later say. A tricky climb, a pretty view.

He twisted the mint leaves in his fingers, all the while.

_ Brit will be posting on the 15th of every month. Come back then to see more._