Picture 2
Miranda Kate’s Picture Choice: Both
Title: Intimate Love
It was the heat Rosalind recalled the most, and not just from the sun on that stunning day when they’d picnicked in the meadow. The passion had burned off them and they’d chased it for fear it would run out. By the time the sun was setting and they’d started to pack up, it had changed to something more tender. They’d stood there watching the sun dip below the horizon, turning the sky from orange to pink, and Frank had wrapped her up in the blanket and drawn her in, to whisper in her ear how he never wanted to spend a day without her.
And they hadn’t until now.
She sat there in the rocking chair on the verandah watching a fresh sunset alone, her tears spent after the touching eulogy their son had given his father. He had done well to stand there at the service and tell everyone about all the wonderful family and personal moments they’d shared. He’d only faltered at the beginning, overwhelmed by his grief in front of so many people, until his wife had joined him on the podium and put a hand on his back and arm to reassure him it was okay to carry on. And he had. She’d wept her silent tears the entire way through.
Rosalind wasn’t ready to think about life without Frank yet. She couldn’t imagine it, and she didn’t want to. For now he would live in her heart, and until she was able to join him she would imagine that he was still there with her.
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You don't need many words to craft a powerful tale, do you? This is great.
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