Her imagination and memory began to rise and shape into Roscow. The familiar figure walked before her, larger feet crunching steadily on the grass whilst clicking his knuckles in his right hand. Roscow was smiling too.
In fact, everything about him was smiling. His shoes smiled and the creases in his khaki pants smiled aggressively. His eyes were alive and his voice on a higher note of pleasure. Roscow was different and even today Roscow Ryley was a different man. He looked decided and like an experienced man of another age. The rhythm of his mood echoed in the ecstatic flapping of the winged birds rising to settle in the tree-tops for the latter part of the morning.
He removed his glasses with thick, black rimmed frames and ran his browning fingers through his hair. Logan came into view, in his mind - she was there. Smiling too, even her two small white legs were smiling. Logan's voice was on the breeze that touched him gently and swept around his ears. An angelic voice softly speaking in almost silent tones. Rock 'n roll Ryley and lovable Logan (Ava), danced on the glistening sand in the pale moonlight of each other's minds. There was no thin, pale and waxy hands in sight. Nothing to detest or detract from the fragrance of a beautiful, deep red rose all fragrant with a new dew. Slowly, they danced. Apart, then together.
And apart.
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