Waiting for a replay.
Let's not give ourselves time to think.
Edward sat on the edge of the bathtub: buttoning his shirt, pulling on his only pair of dress socks. He watched as his love -not his first, but most definately his last, added to her already beautiful face.
"Charlene, you don't need it, that make-up stuff..."
Charlene smiled to herself, not responding, not even turning her head to acknowledge his sincerity. She went on: finishing her eyes, her cheeks, and then she stopped to look at the tube of lipstick on the counter. It was a bold move to wear a red like that, not very many girls could pull it off without looking like a two dollar hooker.
Charlene wasn't at all like other girls, Edward knew it, Charlene knew it -though she wouldn't boast it.
Charlene could wear fire-truck red on her lips,
Charlene could turn the heads of strangers,
Charlene could make joy a tangible reality.
She left the lipstick on the counter, slipped on her black gown, stepped into her heels and flashed Edward a smile.
They drank fine wine, greeted old friends, and danced the night away.
Charlene was the envy of every woman in the room, and in his arms she made Edward the envy of every man.
She left the lipstick on the counter, and proved a point without it.
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2 comments:
i love you
you are special. never stop writing.
i got a goal in futsal tonight. against the top team. it was sweet. we wont talk about basketball. we won... i just dont know why i play.
louise
I don't care about Charlene, she doesn't exist... She is only actualized through confidence.
Edward, on the other hand, Edward has more power than you might ever know.
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