Prologue to Her Wait
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I thought I should share this for those willing to read it. It's nothing extraordinary or heart wrenching or even emotional in any way, type, or form, but I still felt it needed sharing.
I watched the sun sit on his locks, glimmering by the light of the orb. His features glowed, becoming further outlined by the light. His eyes lay prominently on the idle hand while all other features of his masculine, but boyishly freckled face, rested, unmoving. He sat at our table by the window, tapping his thumbs on the golden oak top of it. His face wasn't agitated like the tapping might have suggested to someone who was listening rather than watching, but soft. His face was soft and calm. He was waiting impatiently for owl mail while his mind fingered through images of delicate black script that formed the words he was dying to hear from her- the words for the girl he'd met and loved. He leisurely lingered, moving the wheels of thought inside his head lethargically.
I just observed, leaving him on the other side of the room near the window to please himself with the thoughts of the beautiful writing set across the dainty parchment. Then in a swift moment of a tap at the window, I braced myself for the end of my disillusionment. While sitting here, describing him to you, I had thoughts of my own. The delicate script would be from the toils of my own fingers and the anxious attitude set forth would be for me, and for the pleasure of reading my words….
That small brown owl of his fluttered around his head and he swatted Pig away with agitation, quickly unfolded the parchment, and took time not to rip the piece. His lips mouthed the words, his bright eyes moved eagerly from left to right, word after word. His lips curled as he neared the middle of the paragraph and they parted making his grin a product of his wait. He grinned wide and long. He grinned for her.
And there I sat in my solitary chair on the other side of the room, smiling with him, pleading with him, to look over to me and smile wider and brighter. But he didn't. He just read. He just read and smiled, a smile not meant for me.
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It was a little confusing, I know, but there's a story coming out of this somewhere.
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