Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Literary Fiction

He awoke from his sleep and turned to study his aging wife lying beside him, the morning sun through their bedroom window was not the best light he had ever seen her in but he would never tell her that and not wishing to wake her he traced the lines with his finger some inches from her face, here a line made by laughter and here another brought on by the sorrows and hardships of life, he thought of all they had been through and he remembered the vibrant and exiting young woman he had once known, running through the cornfields her long brown hair shining in the sunlight, how they had laughed together and talked of their dreams; he wondered where she was now and at this moment wished he had married her instead.

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