Monday, November 25, 2013

Stormy Night

It was a inconsolable and stormy night when she came to find me. I was sitting at my work desk, writing my daily laud of the days work when my ears caught a soft knocking at the designer door, timid exclusively distinct against the fury of the tempest. Who could it possibly be at this hour and in this kind of night, I mused as I pushed tail my chair irritably to answer the door. As I was ab away to slip fend for the door latch, a small, rarely heard voice in the back of my head, which only when radius in times of danger, cautioned me to be careful. My hand h overed over the latch hesitantly. Could the stranger on the other side be a suicidal person? Even in the inwardness of a night like this, the very notion of a dangerous person wanting to take the trouble to damage a plain Jane like me viewmed absurd. I peered out by means of the trumpery peephole in the centre of the door, precisely it was so temperamental outside that all I could inflict was a dark silhouett e. Whos there? I called out. Maze, its me. A womans voice rang out on the other side, a voice so honest-to-goodness and beaten(prenominal) that it was unmistakable even in the thundering rain. All thoughts of burglars and stalkers fled from my judiciousness as I slipped back the last latch and flung continue the door. There she stood, a lone and forlorn figure on the doorstep.
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The torrential rain had drenched her from head to toe, the rivulets of rainwater bet in the dim light of the hallway down her back and formed a puddle at her feet. She had changed much, yet I could still recognize her as the dear frie nd from my ensure years. Her business sui! t was wet and hung limply from her tall frame, but it was obviously of an expensive cut. She held a small briefcase tightly in one hand. Even in my state of semi-shock, I could light upon that she was unusually nervous, for she gripped the handle so tightly I could capture her knuckles shining white in the dim light. Her eyes, those fiery, wound eyes which always seemed to dance with laughter during our school years were not dancing now as she gazed back at me....If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

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