An old story (part one)
It was the second-loneliest time of my life. I called her out of my moonlight, and she came, the fire of the sun lighting her eyes. Her name was Abby, and we might as well have met in one.
She was too young for me, and I was far too young for her. We were both in that first flower of youth, when Truth and Virtue have yet to be eroded by Time to mere truth and virtue. We loved each other chastely, religion too important to us for us to even contemplate a more physical relationship.
Gods, we were young.
She was too young for me, and I was far too young for her. We were both in that first flower of youth, when Truth and Virtue have yet to be eroded by Time to mere truth and virtue. We loved each other chastely, religion too important to us for us to even contemplate a more physical relationship.
Gods, we were young.