My hands grasped a black-and-white photograph greedily, as tears streamed down my hollow cheeks. “I remember this day.” I said. “I remember…” I paused, smiling tiredly. “I remember the music.” I gazed at the photograph that picture was fading after years of being tapped to my bedroom window. “Back then the music had soul. You know, they said, good music would lead you to your love. They were right!” I clapped. “That’s how I met your grandfather. The music lead me dancing and swaying across the reflective floor and I spun right into his strong hands. It was awkward at first, I couldn’t stop myself from giggling. I felt like a young school girl, and by the end of the night my feet were so sore, he packed me back to my car and was even careful enough not to let the trail of my blue satin dress drag in the rain puddles.” I ran my fingers over the wrinkled corners of the photograph. “We got married in the morning. It was the first time I did anything spontaneous, and luckily it wasn’t the last.” Written by Alecia Writes

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close