chickadee99
Her scalp was porcelain white, with only a few black hairs on it. I reached down and smoothed it lovingly, not believing that this treasure is really mine. The numerous phone calls, the aching feeling of waiting, the visit... It all led to this.
This moment was mine, and finally, so was she.
I wish that this word made a rush of thoughts come to my head, a stampede of ideas, a wave of wishes and dreams that could easily be transformed into beautiful literature.
But it doesn't.
So I'll just write about the feeling of disappointment I have right now, and wait for tomorrow.