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Letters to Juliet
Category: Romance
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.