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"Blue brings out his eyes," she thought, but Slow Waltz felt ethereal that night. Perhaps it was the Louvre in her peripheral- Paris, the city of love, as they say.
The empty wine glasses twinkled in the moonlit suite, but he could not stop thinking about the ring case in his pocket.
The city where dreams come true~
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Her hands kept warm in his, admiring the constellations above. The entrancing scent of baked confectioneries- so captivating. All felt serene, perfect even, till a boat flipped.
The torrent seemed raging, the ship swaying hither and tither. Snapping back to reality as the glasses shattered, panic sat in. The lurching escalated with every passing minute. River Seine was anything but jovial.
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On the cramped deck, it was too late. The boats on the horizon, barely visible amidst the fog. Despite the rising water, he smiled reassuringly. Now drenched and cold in each other's embrace, fighting the current, it all went black.
She sees a rosy hue cast across the morning sky. The light shone softly on the dewy leaves. Disoriented with her surroundings, oblivious, her eyes graze around for him.
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Dragging about the sands, she nuzzles up to him, noticing a case in his clenched fist. Her eyes- bloodshot, with tears glistening on her flushed face, looked into his- of whiskey and honey and its sweet intoxication, illuminated with irradiance. How he still seemed so alive. Smiling ruefully, she thought, "Blue brings out his eyes."
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