Picnic Drabble

The sound of the train whistle woke me from my fitful sleep and I stared out the window, for a moment too disoriented to see.

"We're here," he said, grabbing the picnic basket.

We walked hand in hand down a narrow lane and he showed me wild strawberries on the roadside. I bent to pick one and without warning he gave me a taste of what was to come and I spun, wide eyed, biting my lip. A hand strayed behind me as we walked on.

Finally, he put the basket down and gave me a wicked smile.

"It's time."