By Will Remi
Rays of the rising sun had entered the room, caressing my body into consciousness. The gown I wore clung to me as I struggled to rise; it was morning.
“I’ll pick you up by seven,” he’d said, his lips thick and eyes bright. But as I stared at the opera tickets on the night stand, a lump caught in my throat; a perfidious punch hit me. He had not come, and I had fallen asleep waiting for him.
The day dragged on but was soon over, and I just sat watching as rays of the setting sun bathed the dark room.
Nice dear. Balanced diction and a cute imagery.. Nice work Wills
its indeed waiting, never stop writing. nice piece.
Moody and sad–but I really liked it!