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He picked up the pen with shaking hands, dipping the nib into the thick black pool of ink, and so he did what she told him to do, and put pen to paper.
𝑨𝒎 𝒊 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔? 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒈? 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒐 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒂𝒕.
𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉. 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒊𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆.
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆... 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.
𝒊𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝒏𝒐 𝒊𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅.
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒉 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒅𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕.
𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉. 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒊𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆.
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆... 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚 𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒇𝒂𝒓, 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒐𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒘 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕.
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒈 𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍.
𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓... 𝒊 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍.
𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑, 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒋𝒖𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉. 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒊𝒅 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆.
𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒉𝒆... 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆, 𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆... 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.
𝒔𝒉𝒆... 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆.
She sighed and plucked the pen from his shivering grasp, worried he might hurt himself.
he picked up the letter, folded it up and placed it in the envelope, sealing the thin paper.
and so she said, "when are you going to give it to her?" warily.
"now." he replied.
"alright, where is she?" she asked.
"she is here." he whispered, he turned 180 degrees, facing her again, and so he passed her the card, he dare not look her in the eyes.
a moment or two passed and she caught on, he was in love with her.
she smiled, stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek, he smiled, hugging her, they smiled loving each other.
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YOU ARE READING
𝗧𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗸, 𝗺𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴
RandomTake caution when reading , some may have triggering topics included or implied. Some are kinda rushed aswell
