All tagged Sadness
First lines of the novel, "An Imperfect Present," I'm too mired in festivities to write today:
"It was Christmas Eve — the last one they'd share, though it didn't seem possible at the time. Even as high school sweethearts, they'd always taken one another for granted.
Just past sundown, carolers arrived — their breath visible against the raw night. Paul and Maria stared out the window, but did not open the door.
The world, it felt, had been closing in on them…”
First lines of the novel that today's barrage of tragic news left me too grief-stricken to write today:
”He arose from his seat in the waiting room — a place near the window which, after all these months, he'd actually come to think of as his own. The sliding doors whooshed open quickly, silently, and his eyes struggled against the blinding noonlight.
The young doctor's words — and the uncomfortable, bad-news grimace he hadn't yet perfected — still echoed, or rippled, like shockwaves, like... like...”
