Story time
So I've yet again abandoned Chemistry in favor of LiveJournal. Hmmmm... and I have a test on Wednesday... Perhaps I should do something about that. Anyway, I have three hours until my next class (Fridays are kind of nice) and I'll study in an hour. That'll give me plenty of time.
I've discovered that my little brother is a pretty good story teller. He told me that on Valentine's day, his teacher gave each of them a candy heart and they had to write a story; the theme was the message on their candy hearts.
Jay got "Marry Me". I will imitate his telling to the best of my ability.
He couldn't decide. It was too difficult. None of these rings were right for her, none of them fit. Further down it was simply more of the same, endless copies of the same thing. Images began to flood him as he looked over the rings, the way she laughed, the sparkle of her eyes when she was trying to hold back laughter, the smile that she seemed to reserve especially for him. How could he symbolize his love for her with a ring?
Then he saw it. It wasn't enough, nothing could ever be enough, but this was as close as he could get.
He paid for it, put the box in his pocket, and drove down to the church. There was no need to stop, he was already dressed for the occasion. True, he was a bit early, but he wanted it that way. He wanted to see her before anyone else did. For this, he needed some time alone. Taking out the ring and discarding the box, he slowly walked down the aisle toward her and laid the ring in her cold, waiting hand, leaned over her coffin and whispered, "Marry me."
I've discovered that my little brother is a pretty good story teller. He told me that on Valentine's day, his teacher gave each of them a candy heart and they had to write a story; the theme was the message on their candy hearts.
Jay got "Marry Me". I will imitate his telling to the best of my ability.
He couldn't decide. It was too difficult. None of these rings were right for her, none of them fit. Further down it was simply more of the same, endless copies of the same thing. Images began to flood him as he looked over the rings, the way she laughed, the sparkle of her eyes when she was trying to hold back laughter, the smile that she seemed to reserve especially for him. How could he symbolize his love for her with a ring?
Then he saw it. It wasn't enough, nothing could ever be enough, but this was as close as he could get.
He paid for it, put the box in his pocket, and drove down to the church. There was no need to stop, he was already dressed for the occasion. True, he was a bit early, but he wanted it that way. He wanted to see her before anyone else did. For this, he needed some time alone. Taking out the ring and discarding the box, he slowly walked down the aisle toward her and laid the ring in her cold, waiting hand, leaned over her coffin and whispered, "Marry me."