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Date Posted: 14:40:48 06/02/02 Sun
Author: Raphaela
Author Host/IP: webcacheB11a.cache.pol.co.uk / 195.92.168.173
Subject: Re: Crossroads
In reply to: Ian B Saxon 's message, "Crossroads" on 12:42:47 04/16/02 Tue

You certainly write of contemporary times, the bittersweet love that can affect so many, yet is felt as sincerely as through conventional courtships.

I love this line

'...etched into the lines of his face and witness to the smile that disappears just before it reaches the eyes… '





>I thought to share a short piece of my book
>“Crossroads”,…the piece that started it all…when I
>wrote of happy times and the piece that stayed with me
>when I cried.
>
>
>This is about love,……
>
>
>… his words on the screen forced her to make a
>decision, a decision that would change her life
>forever,
>without realization or a second thought…she just
>couldn’t stop herself from asking.
>“I want to hear your voice, please, call me,…now?”
>“Ha ha,..don’t rush things, darlin,…life is short, but
>not that short.”
>“I have to hear your voice, Marc,…I want to make sure
>you are for real”
>“ I am for real, girl, flesh and blood, …but maybe a
>bit shy. I am not too comfortable in the presence of
>beauty”
>“Ahh, Marc, you are such a flatterer...”
>“Am I? No my dear, even a blind man can feel your
>beauty”
>“ I am not going to blush, ok,... really, Marc that is
>not the way I see myself’
>‘Yeah,…but women are their own worst critics…take my
>word for it. Pictures never lie”
>“You have only seen my photo, how can you be sure. I
>am different in real life”
>“If you are, then it can only be for the better.”
>“Flatterer….”
>“I love you”
>“Define love, Marc?”
>“Love,…my dear, is when you see the most dearest of
>faces in that of every woman that crosses your path.
>It is the last thought you have before you go to sleep
>and the first you wake up with. It is that smile that
>seems to stick itself to your features, the song you
>sing throughout the day. It is the force that keeps
>you going while you ache for the next heavenly
>encounter, It is the name that rolls off your tongue
>with every thought and the promise of the next
>beautiful one.”
>“Mmm, surely you are mistaking being in love with me
>with loving me …?”
>“ Is there really a difference, dear, when every fiber
>in you screams for the person you want to be with?
>“Falling in love with someone happens just as easily
>as falling out of love,…you know?”
>“Maybe,…but being in love with someone you love is
>double the bonus, isn’t it?
>“I suppose,…but how do you know you love me? Isn’t it
>all just your imagination?”
>“No,…definitely not…this is more than just being in
>love, Jane”
>“Well,… thank you sir, the thought is still new to me.
>I don’t know what to make of it, but I too feel the
>same way you do. If this is love, then I love you too”
>
>How vivid does everything still seem? Every word
>thereafter, a permanent engraving in his mind, but
>also an accusation for not being able to see it
>through. The knowledge that he failed the woman he
>loves is etched into the lines of his face and witness
>to the smile that disappears just before it reaches
>the eyes…
>
>
>...and the end...
>
>…the mist lingers with every heartbeat and every
>pregnant moment before she smiles and slowly turns to
>walk from her last painful tear.

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