"Everyone has their own mending time," he said to me during our picnic overwhelmed by clementines.
He said to me as I tried not imagining the feel of his hand on mine.
As I tried not feeling anything at all.
But it was nearly impossible.
Everyone has their own mending time. And what of the capacity of the human spirit to truly love another?
Four clementines later.
I think I've fallen.
And I'm swimming in Vitamin C.
No comments:
Post a Comment