Eugene, come home soon. I miss you, and our late night escapes into oblivion. My need of adventure is escalating. Let's fly to that little village that has the antique shop where we once discovered your likeness emblazoned on a leather-bound book. You scoffed at the sight, but I buried it beneath some silk scarves so that we might come back someday and search its pages for an answer to the mystery of our union. The shopkeeper made us tea, remember? Your leaves told of imminent fortune, and I was jealous. My leaves jumped out of the cup and fled the scene.
Come back soon, Eugene. My heart flies with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment