Author's note: These are my Different Prose/s, I haven't checked on it yet and you might read some errors along the way and I would like to apologize for that. But, I promise to check and edit it once I'm done with my other on-going series.
Disclaim...
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𝘯𝘰𝘵 1689 𝘣𝘶𝘵 1987; 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴,
It was 1987 where she run around the area of the country side where she live. Wearing her usual pink pair of boots and floral Sunday dress. She pause for a while to wave and smile to a boy sitting on a white metallic chain-chair near the right wing veranda; the Snob son of Mr. Woodhouse-friendly, an old neighbor. He later on became her only friend.
The summer breeze was dancing with her as she run on a circular manner playing with it's rhythm-she was young back then, she run after time-they ruled time but not all times; was older when she sauntered in the August rain with an endless rhythm of pain with a desire to run to reach his arms that warmed her- Like the old sweet summer's sun; Mr. Woodhouse's son.
she's holding the hands of the love of her life as they imagine their home back on those days where an old stone barn filled with junk and wine and paintings, surrounded by fields of wildflowers and bees was their haven; remembering those moment where they were on the edge of falling apart but they didn't-a mix of nerves and excitement flashed thru her face, as she's looking out to see if he made the slightest move toward leaving, but he didn't and so they live.
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