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Maybe it was a delayed reaction from the blast last year. Some toxin he inhaled, or some kind of allergic reaction to his new aftershave. Something...anything but the truth, because it was just too ludicrous, too sappy and sentimental and...*right.*
He'd been looking at the world through sunglasses...had been for years, because now everything was brighter. The sun, the colors...the taste of food, the way a cool afternoon breeze felt on his skin. The world had changed overnight, in tiny, insignificant ways that turned everything into a tapestry he'd never seen or felt before.
And it was all because of one little word.
Yes.
Not for the first time, Tom found himself transfixed by the glitter of gold and prismatic blue as he helped Rachel stuff the last of the small stack of envelopes...her engagement ring never left her finger, and he was pleased that the opal pendant he'd also given her for Christmas rarely left her neck. If it wasn't on display, he could usually see the gleaming silver chain peeking above the collar of her shirt, but today the v-neck t-shirt she wore let the chain hang free and the glittering teardrop stone stand out sharply against her pale skin.
"Here," he finally declared, handing her his last envelope, "you lick that one. I wish you'd have gotten some of those self-sealing envelopes for these invitations...and remind me *why* we're sending formal invites to our engagement party again? I thought we were keeping things small, and I *know* this stack has grown."
He'd been looking at the world through sunglasses...had been for years, because now everything was brighter. The sun, the colors...the taste of food, the way a cool afternoon breeze felt on his skin. The world had changed overnight, in tiny, insignificant ways that turned everything into a tapestry he'd never seen or felt before.
And it was all because of one little word.
Yes.
Not for the first time, Tom found himself transfixed by the glitter of gold and prismatic blue as he helped Rachel stuff the last of the small stack of envelopes...her engagement ring never left her finger, and he was pleased that the opal pendant he'd also given her for Christmas rarely left her neck. If it wasn't on display, he could usually see the gleaming silver chain peeking above the collar of her shirt, but today the v-neck t-shirt she wore let the chain hang free and the glittering teardrop stone stand out sharply against her pale skin.
"Here," he finally declared, handing her his last envelope, "you lick that one. I wish you'd have gotten some of those self-sealing envelopes for these invitations...and remind me *why* we're sending formal invites to our engagement party again? I thought we were keeping things small, and I *know* this stack has grown."
