Nothing could ever break our intimacy. The feelings that overtook the both of us were gargantuan in intensity and filled with the most desirable emotions. Nothing, I mean nothing could have ever broken us apart.
But then the unthinkable happened. We were pulled from our zone of intimacy by an explosion. The whole room shook for what seemed like forever. We quickly jumped out of the bed and upon the stopping of the shakes we threw on some rags and ran out. As soon as we left the room we stopped dead in our own tracks. Half of my house, half of my beautiful beach house had been blown away! We stood there in shock. He with his faceless expression as he looked around, finally walked around, and assessed the damage. I stood there, my mouth open and my eyes wide. It had taken me five years to build my little house on the beach. It took me even longer to convince people in the neighboring town that my house would be an asset. I worked every morning, cleaning up the beach so I could have that house there (that it got me extra spending money). All that work was gone. My house was gone. All that remained was the kitchen, half the living room and his bedroom.