Beach Reader #1

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BeachReaderLo.1

...again and again througout the day, her footsteps would lead her to the four-pane window by the front door, her delicate fingers parting the lace curtain to peer out. Her eyes strained to see past leafy limbs, attentive to any movement of an approaching carriage, and listening for the clip-clop of horse hooves. With each glance, all she could see was the overhead passing of the local wriens nesting in the eaves of the stable and the mid-air tumbling of a pair of butterflies. How she aced to see him again...


© Lisa Downey 2012