the picture.

The wind outside blew so furiously through the window that it knocked a picture off the closest table. I, feeling tremendously inconvenienced, got out of my brown, synthetic-velvet reclining chair to go pick them up. Standing up all-too-fast, I got a head rush and had to balance myself against the out-dated-wallpaper-covered wall on my right. My breathing became very heavy and audible as I waited to regain full consciousness. The stars that I saw slowly faded, and I looked down to continue my task.

The stars came back when I saw the picture.

At that instant, I was overwhelmed with flashbacks of us. My mind was flooded with images and scenes of us dancing, walking on the beach, lying in bed together, stargazing. I looked with tear-filled eyes at the picture of the two of us. Your white dress and my black tuxedo contrasted so well, but our smiles were almost identical. Our happiness was clear and evident in just a snapshot.

The wind from outside continued to blow, tiny gusts through my hair, cool air on my skin. Sitting on the floor, I looked at the window contemplating closing it. I decided it would be a good idea to prevent anything else from crashing to the carpet.

I stood up, this time more slowly. My hand had only just touched the window when suddenly, I could hear one of the last things you said.

"Don't ever forget me. I know I won't be able to be there, but I don't want you to forget me. You can move on and continue life without be, just don't forget who I was and who we were. I'll always be there to remind you. I'll be everywhere, everything, to remind you: warm sun on your face, passing cars, or even just a small breeze. I love you."

I decided not to close the window.

Author's Note

Feedback is appreciated.

Reviews

[bill]

This is a neat little story with a touching ending. I would offer Devin one piece of advice. Narrators should have a unique voice, especially first person narrators, and unique voices don't always, and shouldn't always, conform to the rules of grammar and composition. They should "speak" like real people, and "real" people don't talk like college English professors.

However, in a piece this short, there is no "time" to develop a unique voice for the narrator. In such a case, by default, the author shourd resort to the rules of grammar and composition.

With that in mind, the third paragraph could be improved by removing a bit of wordiness and changing from the passive voice to the active voice. " Suddenly, flahbacks overwhelmed me, and images flooded my mind, scenes of us dancing,.."

Kevin, I believe you have a future as a writer, and I wish you the best of luck.

[AshleeKayann]

I really love this. It's so...bittersweet? Because it's sad, but it's obvious that their love stands the test of time. I want to know more, though :)