Dearest Diary,
I cannot be certain when I have last been more grateful for the conclusion of a week. Though I harbour no great complaints, I am pleased to be rid of such a week. What seems most fortunate however is the quart of ice that was given to me late this evening as I left a confectionery. It is not simply ice as one might find in cooler climates, but rather tastes somewhat akin to fudge. I could not help but be taken in by the smile of the gentleman and his friendly manner. He is indeed growing in my esteem as we have met on numerous occasions in the past year. Were it only for the bewitching smile, he might have meant less to me. But for the gift he presented me this evening, I find myself considering matrimony. I have never known ice to be of such flavour.
As for the lateness of hour, it behooves me to return to you instead on the morrow...
No comments:
Post a Comment