Friday, January 18, 2008

There Was No Scent of Brimstone

by Robert Gryfft

The seemingly average, older gentleman, (graying; solemn; bushy eyebrows) offered to pay for the purchases of the girl behind him in line. Eye contact; she was momentarily confused. They'd never met before.

Moments passed; then, so did the confusion. Smiling absently, she took his hand.

And she'd follow him to the end of the earth.

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