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Right there. Combing her hair with her fingers. Ribbons of light in a darkened room.

"I have to leave soon." he told her. She knew.

"We could write" he began. She turned to him, lifted her hand to his mouth, "Sssh..." then touched the dark blue-grey cotton of his shirt, already feeling him gone.


Years later. "We were young. It was never going to last."

"We don't know that." he whispered into the phone.

Story by:

Lee Wilde

submitted at 9:02am

20 March 2011

Lee Wilde's web: