she looks at her phone, to hide the blush creeping across her face.
He walks with a bounce in his step, like all peppy bunnies do, ears flopping rhythmically.
To look at his likeness, and admit to herself that she finds him radiant, would be admitting defeat.
And yet, would it be so bad for the predator to melt, swoon, and break down for the prey?
When she could just as easily break him, would it be so bad to lose herself in his softness?
to share a simple touch with her delicate lover, is almost too much to bear.