Page 81 of The River in Spring
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“Ours?” I ask.
“Who knows?”
The sense of wind blowing through me, and clearing away every unnecessary thought, returns.
Listen,it says.
And I do. Now is the time. As Dove waits and watches for my reaction, I respond with the only thing that has been on my mind for months.
“Will you marry me?”
The words float on the wind and settle in her eyes. She knew. Of course, she knew.
THE END.
