“Shall we not meet again?” whispered she, bending her face down close to his.
“Shall we not spend our immortal life together? Surely, surely, we have ransomed one another, with all this woe!
Monday, October 10, 2005
Hand On Knee
He did not know what to make of her letters. He would read them, yes, but after the pages have been folded neatly back into their envelope, he would sit there, eyes glazed, hand on knee.
He was a man bludgeoned, a man swiftly run over. .
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