Blogging · Fiction · short · stories

My hand…



-Tell me your story, he said while walking her home. I want to know what life took you through,Β  before it lead you to me…

She smiled, and instantly blushed, touched by his sudden request.

-Will you hold my hand during the rough parts…?

She shyly looked up to him, meeting his warm gaze,

-Only if you let me hold it through the sweet ones…

8 thoughts on “My hand…

  1. I’m glad it’s not my life story. That is like a running river with too many shallow parts, where the stones cut your feet. The fish also bite your toes, and to top it all off, the whole story is a lie, anyway!

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s