Well...here's the deal, y'all keep asking me for more on these Gilmore fics. And I still love them, the ones that I've neglected, that is, and so here's a VERY VERY SHORT update. I hope you enjoy it. And tell you what--if there's anywhere you can think of this story going, put it in the review. Please! --Annest
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The air was getting cooler at night, and Rory enjoyed that. It was late summer, and the oppresive heat in the day eventually tapered off to cool evenings and some downright cold nights. This she knew, because that was when she met Jess. At two a.m. And it was becoming cold at 2 a.m. these days, when she snuck out of the house and down to the diner.
It was dark in the diner that night, and she almost turned around. He didn't seem to be there, and it wasn't typical. He hadn't let her down before, he really hadn't. Usually, a tiny light was on, so she knew. The light above the sink, last Tuesday. The lamp by the cast register, two weeks ago. The other night, he had lit a candle, discreetly, by the door. They had sat on a blanket, in the middle of the diner floor, and talked quietly. The dark navy blanket he had spread out was soft under her, and he looked at her, an unreadable expression in the semi-darkness, and she laughed a lot. About the books they were reading, about the political parodies she had recently delved into.
"Orange Jess. It's hilarious. Exploding heads. Florida politics. You have to read it. It's phenomenally funny," she insisted. He just sat there, and handed her water to wash back the chocolate syrup she had been squirting straight into her mouth.
Tonight, there were no lights. And she was troubled. What had happened? It was possible...he had forgotten. Or that he just didn't want to see her.
A last look at the diner, and she turned to the gazebo, then turned toward home. Sleep called to her, and the dark of night seemed comforting in her confusion.
And then the light in his bedroom turned on. She looked up, but there was no sign of him at the window. A step or two back toward the diner, and her brain began recanting the words she read before sneaking out that night.
It isn't in how I love you,
Or the way you look tonight,
What you say
when you find
I've not been what you expected
Not been who you thought you had
I don't have your hand
or your heart
or your mind
because of how I love you
but that I do
In the night
His face was in the window now, smiling at her, before he realized she saw him. And when she smiled back at him, he felt a bit more free to grin again. One smile at a time. She'd eventually get him to love, she decided, but she didn't know why it was so damned important to her in the first place.
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Please review...just so I know it was okay, albeit incredibly short?!
_____________________________________
The air was getting cooler at night, and Rory enjoyed that. It was late summer, and the oppresive heat in the day eventually tapered off to cool evenings and some downright cold nights. This she knew, because that was when she met Jess. At two a.m. And it was becoming cold at 2 a.m. these days, when she snuck out of the house and down to the diner.
It was dark in the diner that night, and she almost turned around. He didn't seem to be there, and it wasn't typical. He hadn't let her down before, he really hadn't. Usually, a tiny light was on, so she knew. The light above the sink, last Tuesday. The lamp by the cast register, two weeks ago. The other night, he had lit a candle, discreetly, by the door. They had sat on a blanket, in the middle of the diner floor, and talked quietly. The dark navy blanket he had spread out was soft under her, and he looked at her, an unreadable expression in the semi-darkness, and she laughed a lot. About the books they were reading, about the political parodies she had recently delved into.
"Orange Jess. It's hilarious. Exploding heads. Florida politics. You have to read it. It's phenomenally funny," she insisted. He just sat there, and handed her water to wash back the chocolate syrup she had been squirting straight into her mouth.
Tonight, there were no lights. And she was troubled. What had happened? It was possible...he had forgotten. Or that he just didn't want to see her.
A last look at the diner, and she turned to the gazebo, then turned toward home. Sleep called to her, and the dark of night seemed comforting in her confusion.
And then the light in his bedroom turned on. She looked up, but there was no sign of him at the window. A step or two back toward the diner, and her brain began recanting the words she read before sneaking out that night.
It isn't in how I love you,
Or the way you look tonight,
What you say
when you find
I've not been what you expected
Not been who you thought you had
I don't have your hand
or your heart
or your mind
because of how I love you
but that I do
In the night
His face was in the window now, smiling at her, before he realized she saw him. And when she smiled back at him, he felt a bit more free to grin again. One smile at a time. She'd eventually get him to love, she decided, but she didn't know why it was so damned important to her in the first place.
______________________
Please review...just so I know it was okay, albeit incredibly short?!
