today i recieved this:

stephen,
Sept. 5 you wrote "If I could re-live last night over, I would."

And on Sept. 6th I wrote this:

If I could re-live last night over, I would.
And that's all you write. That's all I have to ponder. No tone of voice. No
facial expression. No story behind the words to ease my curiousity. Of course,
when I first read the words on the screen, I immediately sensed romance. At least that's what female intuition assumed. A night - an encounter with a woman whose beauty and smile captured your entire being. I suppose you strolled the city together until you came across a local coffee shop. There the conversation intensified and so did the emotions as you shared your life dreams, your faith, your authors, and your philosophies. If only the ocean were nearby, you would continue the evening with a walk along the beach, the sand between your toes and her fingers entwined with yours. The stars claim their presence in the sky reminding you how small and insignificant you are. But as you lay down on the sand to breath in their gaze, you know for this night, they shine for you.
-(*****)

dear mam,
who are you? have you read the romance novels i write in my head? though this sounds like an amazing evening, (the evening of sept 5) nothing of the sort happend at all that night. true there was someone else with me, but it was not as romantic as i wish your short story was, if that type of night would ever take place i would have a bit more optimism in my music, and a larger smile on my face presently. please keep writing to me i was lost in your words envisioning that the girl in your story was the girl in my present thoughts.
-stephen

Comments

Gabrielle said…
I feel that way about almost everyday of my life.
~ELLE~
wow, i love that story too and also wished it happened in real life. lol daydreaming/imagining is awesome =)
Eden-Joy said…
That is amazing. I love this and everything else in this blog to be quite honest. It stimulates and inspires words in my mind. I feel much more confident about just writing out random lines that come to mind in the unwinding story forming in my frazzled brain.

So in essence, I thank you for being an unofficial mentor of the art of writing.

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