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How could I know, in those last fatal days, that a force darker than jealousy and stronger than love had begun to take hold of Angie?
Days had turned into weeks. Weeks had turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love.
A love that will live forever.
The end.
Days had turned into weeks. Weeks had turned into months. And then, one not-so-very special day, I went to my typewriter, I sat down, and I wrote our story. A story about a time, a story about a place, a story about the people. But above all things, a story about love.
A love that will live forever.
