lapsus linguae

Monday, October 31, 2005

Exercise #2

They had met, while still fledglings, mind full of ideals, eyes full of dreams. It was intellectual chemistry of the purest kind. They could talk for hours about philosophy, books, the sciences, politics and history. And then they fell in love, or rather he did. He asked her to marry him. She looked at him in the eye and nodded. The deal was sealed. She would have told you matter of factly, if you had cared to ask, that their mental frequencies matched, as did their outlook in life, and that was good enough reason to marry. He would have told you the same, and some more. The look of her eyes just before they closed after a tiring day, her rare smiles when she unburdened herself, just for an instant though, the way she would doodle on the piano, carelessly like an errant child, after careful hours of Mozart and Bach. He just felt like holding her then, on to those moments of intimate pleasure of glimpsing the child woman in her, the moments when she let her heart rule her clinical mind.

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