For candlelit reads and romantics
photo credits: http://s5.favim.com
Something stood by the hedge of flowers.
He could not make out what it was because the evening had ripened too quickly and there was a thunderstorm. With an umbrella that got upturned once he stepped into the gusty, howling winds, he walked through the pool of water that had gathered. He came close enough to see; it was a girl standing by the hedge of flowers, drenched. “What are you doing out, by yourself, in this storm?” he asked. She said nothing, her jaws grinding on nothing. “You can come in and stay till the rain is over,” he offered. She followed him, one of his arms around her and the other holding the totaled umbrella. They made their way quickly past an arch made out with crimson petals and arrived at a small house built of red bricks and covered with corrugated roof.
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