Imagine a perfect relationship. A relationship full of love, passion, respect, tolerance, understanding. Imagine that you wake up to sweet good mornings and go to bed after a good night kiss. Every single day. 365 days a year. No exceptions. No failures.

Passing by the library Annie noticed that the secretaire was open. She hesitated but then entered the room; her husband, Michael, didn’t like her being in there. He used to say it was his workshop, a place where he was the creator and anything that could distract him was not welcome there. Including her.

Throughout the years she had gotten into the habit of not going inside and couldn’t really remember the last time she had stepped over the threshold of the library. She noticed that not much had changed within the years. The same bookshelves, same furniture, even the atmosphere seemed the same. In fact only the laptop on the desk made one realize they hadn’t travelled back in time to the 19th century.

They say time heals all.

Does it heal the bruises of hasty decisions?
The ones that haunt you through day and night reminding you of things done and words said.

Does it heal the loss of unforgettable love?
The one which filled your life with sense and broke your heart short after.

Does it heal the confusion of tough choices?
When you know that either ways you hurt someone and they will never forgive you.

I have not posted any stories recently and it has reasons. Firts, being sick for more than a week, did not really leave me with any options other than bedrest, so no writing. Second, I was busy with other stuff and fiction writing somehow took a long pause. But today I wanted to post here a story. A FICTION one. It is an old one written more than a year ago but it is one of my most favorite stories even if not one of the best ones. Inspired by the song by Hinder “Lips of an angel”, again one of my favorites. They both make me cry, the song and the story. Or maybe that’s just my mood.

“One bottle, two bottle, three bottle,” Andy counted examining unfamiliar labels.

“Bottles.” Miley corrected.

“What?”

“Three bottles. Plural,” she explained without looking at him. She just had taken up plurals at school.

I love you, he whispered. She was sleeping and couldn’t reply but he knew she felt the same. He kissed her gently on her cheek and left the room casting one more glance at the sleeping angel. His angel.
He went down to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Soon coffee was forgotten as he submerged deep into the thoughts about HER. He couldn’t stop wondering why destiny presented him with such a gift. A gift of pure unconditional love. A gift of the miracle being in his life. His …

“Do you think it is normal to talk to yourself?” Stella asked looking at Jason out of the corners of her eyes.
“Ummm…” Jason seemed to be amused with her facial expression.
“So what do you think?” She asked again.
“About what?”
“About what I just have asked.”
“And what have you asked?”
“I have asked if…” Stella began … but then she realized he was teasing her. “Stop it, you idiot.”
“Stop what?” He asked pretending he had no idea what she was talking about.
“Whatever you have in your mind, just stop it.”
“So…” A smile flitted …