259 Pressing Proposal

"Mary Claire, please listen carefully."

He spoke deliberately. He had her attention. He took her by the hand, pressing it lovingly.

"Yes?" she replied, expectantly.

"I've watched you from afar and near. I've been points in between, over-and-under, to-and-fro. From every vantage you reach my eyes with only the loveliest of effervescent grace. When I see you, I stop in my tracks, for I must not simply see you. I must stare!"

He was still holding her hand lovingly. She could feel his adoration transmit through their intertwining fingers.

"Your voice sings to me in complex melodies that harmonize with the Music of the Spheres. God Almighty, Himself, is involved! I can hear it. God is Love and you are His love song."

He pressed her hand affectionately, and she felt irradiated by all his sentiments.

"Yours is a fragrance that defines my life, ambitions, hopes, and dreams. A scent like yours transcends the most delicious perfumes ever molecularly combined for Woman. I inhale you and become one in your heavenly ambiance—an apotheosis of communion."

Her hand was convexity to his concavity; yin to his yang; softening to his rigidity; and woman to man.

"Yours is the taste of ambrosia, distilled by the gods; such flavor is filtered through decanters of gold, precious stones, and a sieve of the finest fabrics left over from Creation. When I taste you, the rest of the world sours; but I take heart, because you cleanse my palate with purity and the sublime. Tasting you is taking Holy Communion!"

She no longer could feel the separateness of her hand from his. She had become one with him, joined at their palms' lifelines, awaiting the spiritual journey roadmapped within the creases and lines of fortuitous portent.

"It is for all of these sensations and identifications with you that I now humbly ask you to offer me this lovely hand," he squeezed, "in marriage."

"Oh, William," she swooned. "You are my original, my unique, my bespoke partner."

"In the interest of transparency," he added, "everything I just said was written by ChatGPT."

"What about your hand?" she asked, one lovely eyebrow raised.

"The hand was all my idea," he replied.

"Then, yes!"

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AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Sunday, September 25, Day 259 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Accompaniment photo as AI derived, but the proposal was all mine. To be clear, it wasn't a ChatGPT written by ChatGPT; not a disclaimer within a disclaimer. It was a fictional ChatGPT written by me! All me! Just about a ChatGPT that wrote a ChatGPT. So there!

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THIS CHALLENGE PRESSES ON, 366 SENTIMENTS AT A TIME.

There are currently three surviving, intertwining, Vocal hand-holders still fingering their keyboards alon the ol' QWERTYUIOP in the digital 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer (Index finger)

• Rachel Deeming (Ring finger)

• Gerard DiLeo (Bird finger and all 'round general ambisinisterally all-thumbs)