She arrived at the park later than usual.
He was there.
She walked over to the bench and sat down, occasionally snapping pictures of the scenery and him.
He passed her a note.
'Nice weather?'
She smiled knowingly.
'Nice enough for my scrapbook.'
She slipped the book onto his lap along with his pen.
Soon enough he passed it back.
'Am I nice enough?'
She replied.
'Certainly. Nice is a nice word don't you think?'
He laughed.
'Nicely put.'
><><><><
YOU ARE READING
Spoken
RomancePeter saw her at the park everyday. He didn't know her name, where she came from, what music she listened to everyday. But he felt like he knew her his whole life.
