Today’s six are from a short story I’m revamping, “The Road to Durrës.” Mhll, an Albanian shopkeeper, has fallen in love with Grace, an American nurse.
She looked down at her hands, then back at him as she said, “We were meant to be, Mhll.”
It took all his effort not to stare at her, not to take her in his arms and kiss her. Perhaps it was only because he hadn’t seen her in so long, only in his memory, but she seemed even more beautiful than before. More beautiful than the night when she’d said she would marry him, the night before she’d left without explanation, without even saying goodbye. “We were not meant to be, Grace. You showed that when you left.”
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