Love and Some Verses
He kisses her in the mornings, mouth against her cheek for just a minute before he heads out the door, brief case tucked under his arm. Just a minute- but he never forgets and this is important.
She smiles as she watches him leave, settling back against the duvet, with her coffee and her paper. This is the life she picked- the man she picked.
Her ring slides against the mug. She's a woman- a woman of one and twenty and her grandmother can't believe it and her mother doesn't want to.
But she's happy. She's Mrs. Logan Huntzberger and she doesn't go to work, and there's a nursery being painted next door but she's happy. There's still a note book by her bed, filled with words and empty promises but she doesn't need them.
Most days she's sure- if she writes now, she only ever writes for him. To watch his eyes light up when he reads her work. She presses a palm to her belly. She'll have more to write for soon. Fairy tales and love songs and stories that don't bite anymore.
She turns on the t.v. Watches Some Like It Hot with the volume off and frowns over her pen.
She's still Rory Gilmore.