Call For Paradise.
@teejane.
It had been a whole hour since he got on the train; a whole hour spent in silent reverie as the man merely stared at the passing countryside. He was at peace.
By the window across from her was where he sat, a novel (Persuasion, by Jane Austen) in hand in spite of it remaining unread. Though frequently enough did he manage to drag his eyes away from the changing view outside, only to glance at Janey whenever she crossed his empty thoughts. He smiled each and every time he had done so, albeit unbeknownst him at first as it was almost always done unconsciously as one would have said. But by God would he have been stupid if he were to not smile at the sight of her; beautiful, angelic, and one-of-a-kind, as lovely and as warm as the sun. But unfortunately, John was barely a sappy man to say such a description out loud.
He then began to stare at her as he usually did whenever he was graced with her company. He ran through his plan in his head and ticked all sorts of things off the ‘list’. At that point, John most definitely confirmed with himself that he had it all planned out, this surprise to which he had for the one and only birthday girl. And although he was not quite the type to plan ‘unnecessary’ outings, let alone surprises, he figured that he could have allowed himself to do so during a time such as then. It was, after all, an extended celebration for the existence of a woman whom he often called his.
His.
Mine.
He looked down at the open book in front of him as a grin forced itself onto his softened features.
A month later and it seemed like he was still not used to the concept of them being each others’.
