asj313
The place was covered in decorations that didn't make a whole lot of sense. There were black and white photographs of JFK and Ronald Reagan and what looked to be modern art in a corner and framed newspapers from the turn of the century.
I had it all planned out: the cathedral, the music, the food, the vows. All that was left was the question. Maybe the hardest question a man ever has to ask, maybe the only one he truly, deep down, won't ever know is the right one to ask.
It was only a moment, a brief moment in what seemed like the longest day of Charlie's life. Only a fleeting, grasping, barely-there, never-to-come-again moment, but still, it resonated with him like nothing had before, the feel of her fingertips brushing his.
writing since 2012 · 3 entries · 3 days shown up
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momentquestionbrieflongestcharlie'sfleetinggraspingbarelyresonatedfingertipsbrushingplannedcathedralmusicfoodvows