mel_annie98



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    Part II in the "His and Mine are the Same" series.
    *****
    "Gilbert Blythe rested his forehead against the fog-covered window pane - hoping to be able to peer through the condensation within and sleeting snow without to glimpse the dark shape of the platform he knew was ahead. Every chug of the train beneath him felt like the pounding of his heart, his thoughts beating out the same rhythm in his head: Anne. Anne. Anne. Anne.

    It had been more than four months since he had seen her, and their last meeting still felt as dream-like and unbelievable to him as it had on the very day he had raced through the streets of Charlottetown, the same rhythm pulsing in his veins then, as it was now. Anne. Anne. Anne.

    The small, black velvet bag in his coat pocket felt as heavy as a brick, aware of it as he was of the unwavering direction of his every thought..."
    *****
    (Part I is called "Whatever our Souls are Made Of")
    The title of this work and chapter comes from the Tennyson poem "The Flower".

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    07 Feb 2020