
April 1951 - An overeager photographer blinds the two of us with his flash, right as we're enjoying our ice cream down at the fair.
June 1964 - The picture is encased now in a delicate birchwood frame, and I find myself looking at it whenever I'm reading one of your letters.
October 1979 - The letters stopped coming -or you stopped writing them- yet still in my weaker moments I catch myself staring at that photograph; my eyes still know every curving lock of your hair, every twinkle in your perfect eyes.
December 1997 - Amy's husband is giving me a lift later today: she's just helping me pack the last of my things before I'm moving out. But I have to fight back the tears all over again when she holds up a delicate birchwood frame, and asks me "Hey mom, d'you want me to box this?"
Late by a few hours, but I don't care: 5-Sentence Sunday is back!
This piece and your soul belong to me.
June 1964 - The picture is encased now in a delicate birchwood frame, and I find myself looking at it whenever I'm reading one of your letters.
October 1979 - The letters stopped coming -or you stopped writing them- yet still in my weaker moments I catch myself staring at that photograph; my eyes still know every curving lock of your hair, every twinkle in your perfect eyes.
December 1997 - Amy's husband is giving me a lift later today: she's just helping me pack the last of my things before I'm moving out. But I have to fight back the tears all over again when she holds up a delicate birchwood frame, and asks me "Hey mom, d'you want me to box this?"
Late by a few hours, but I don't care: 5-Sentence Sunday is back!
This piece and your soul belong to me.
Category Story / All
Species Arachnid
Size 120 x 87px
File Size 7 kB
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