by Nikki Williams

Above, the dawn’s chorus — tourmaline, amethyst, citrine in symphony. Below, an unbroken, glassy display. The hammock’s embrace. All criminally charming.

“My bride fancies nothing else,” he’d cajoled, again. They both knew what to do. Two floor plans, three jammed alarms and forty minutes later they had her token. All of them. The catch of the day. Swiped, sealed, soon to be delivered to a dainty, waiting left hand, smooth earlobes, a milky collarbone…

Chains and trinkets for wired amounts. Never got old — just quiet, on iridescent mornings without the sapphire gaze and toothless grin of her only gem.

Nikki Williams is a seasoned Jamaican writer and content creator with experience in blogging, editorials and digital news media. She’s worked with several entities as a journalist, editor and content curator. She wishes she was fluent in Spanish and is an active shutterbug and chocolate-chip cookie enthusiast when not consumed by creative work. Currently based in Jamaica, she accepts commissioned cultural writing projects among other assignments. See more: linktr.ee/writenowrong