The air hung as heavy as yellowed drapes in threadbare disrepair- smelling the smell of must and dust amid shadowed forms and weathered shapes she reminisced of passions missed- reaching out but not quite touching a thought that was not there except within a memory entombed in darkened room- with air hanging as heavy as yellowed drapes in threadbare disrepair.
A homecoming? LOl, I wish you would repost your original fish tale, the one I just discovered in the archives, one you posted long before I joined Pips. I thoroughly enjoyed this one tonight, but? I was ROTFLMAO at that post from long ago.
Lady In White