By Irene LeCram
Copyright 2012 Irene LeCram
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, places or organizations is entirely coincidental.
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Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the sun.
All summer long she had been pulling at his heart. That’s what it felt like to Stan, as if he was connected to Jane with invisible strings and she was calling him.
Wherever he was he would see her face, her eyes and her eyebrows that would arch and send him messages. In the kitchen, her head would pop up above the sink. In his room, looking out, he’d see her hovering next to the belfry. In the hall, she was there. In the living room, same thing. Sometimes, when reading a book, he would think of her and the letters would fade, everything would turn into light.