CaiCa145
It was an afternoon where the colours were sharper, the sky a bit brighter, and the company more cheerful. The conversation was engaged without being raucous, and the food was satisfying. The tabbouleh particularly was remarked upon for being very zestful.
The sun shone fell upon her left cheek and in her left eye. Her head was all that was all the sun could caress- bobbing on top of the waves. The rest of her was submerged and languorous, It was nice to drift in the current.
Across the room he heard a laugh that changed his life. Funny how you don't realise that until later. At the time he was barely thinking. It was like magnetism. Although he was sitting across from a attractive, intelligent, appealing partner, this laugh was like an itch he couldn't scratch, creeping across his brain, making it difficult to focus on anything else. It was so ALIVE. Vivacious. Inviting. Healing.
With wonder, I followed the gentle shimmer as it rose into the air. The space between my self and the unknowable universe shrank in that moment, and I was enveloped into everything.
I think she expected me to wither. I mean, that facial expression was very impressive, but she was two steps behind in the plot. I just looked at her and realized suddenly, 'she doesn't get it.'
Staring into the fire it was as if she could here the echo of her past coming back to hold her to account. Yes, she had made mistakes. But she was now trying to be better.
She turned about on the path. Not far she spied a hollow shortly beneath a fork in a great tree. That would have to do. The leaf litter crunched underfoot, and the downward slope caused her to slip.
It was a merry mood. The sun was shining, and the grass was growing. Harvey had a lilt in his voice and we tramped along the hillside. At times there was a lilt in my step. But it was a joyous expedition.
I looked across the hall. It was a somber mood. No-one was here to laugh. It was a shame really. The absurdities of the situation far outweighed the need for gloom.
Settling into the pew I thought about how the hymns were the only thing to make church bearable. It felt good to sing, and to sing with a group. The rest of the time was far more productively spent with imaginings of all kinds.
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