literature
Whether written centuries ago or just last year, literary couples show that love is timeless.
The Date of Fate
I was just about to meet Franklin for our 7:00 o’clock date, it was a place I had never heard of The Monary on 8th Street. I ran my finger tips through my hair to spruce it up before I walked out the door and looked in the mirror and said “Just have fun and try something new” words to encourage my ever nervous state. I waited outside for my Uber driver because I knew I was not going to want to drive tonight if we decided to have a few drinks. As my Uber driver pulled up I took a deep breath and opened the door.
By Hannah Prusak5 years ago in Humans
crimson
Perfect, there I was in a busy parking lot waiting For my date or whatever this was. The thoughts, countless of them swirled through my head as if I had no control over them, I don't think I did. Some of them were good thoughts, some of them were very bad, most of them were inappropriate, Some still make me chuckle. Then the “what ifs'' slowly crept in and took over my thoughts. What if I'm too “this,” what if she's too “that.” It's amazing how “What Ifs” are almost always followed by something negative when you first meet someone. But “what if I just don't care,” I had to tell myself. Don't think, just let go of everything and be only in the moment.
By ghost particle5 years ago in Humans
Gianna
I was 10 years old when my Uncle Mark sat me on his lap, grabbed his wallet from his jacket pocket, and handed me an old photo. Mark and the woman in the picture sat with their arms around each other, and my Uncle had a look on his face that I have never seen before; it was pure love. I watched my Uncle slowly stroke his thumb over the tattered picture as a single tear fell from his eye. He quickly wiped it away said:
By Mary Driver5 years ago in Humans
Whiskey, Wine, And All That Jazz
“I’m telling ya boy we ‘as sittin’ right der in dat corner booth eatin’ ‘an I seent it wit ma’ own two eyes!” His big calloused hands waved toward the booth nearest the kitchen doors and flailed wildly at the bar where Antanios Hanna was currently enjoying a glass of bourbon and the ambiance.
By Jason Vowell5 years ago in Humans
The Glass Before Me
He’s supposed to be here. I’m not supposed to be drinking this Merlot by myself. Three months ago, we talked about this night for hours over text. We planned out every detail of this perfect date. Our first date—our first “real” date—after quarantine ended and restaurants reopened. We talked about sitting in this classic Italian restaurant together, how we loved the vines that crept up the brick and stucco walls. We’d sit on the patio with the golden lights hanging overhead. The light would shine in his perfect eyes. He’d take my hand in his. His hand would fit mine perfectly. It always did.
By Emma Laurens5 years ago in Humans
A Memorable Bottle at Chez Lily
Raindrops pelted the roof of the small Brooklyn restaurant like the fingers of a nervous typist. Victor could hear cars outside rushing by in what was temporarily the 7th Avenue river. The prospect of filling any of the twenty tables at Chez Lily seemed dim at this hour, and he decided to send his one waitress and the chef home for the night.
By Ilya Gofman5 years ago in Humans
