THE BETRAYAL
“Grieving in dismay,
I am seated here, lone(a)…
My heart is wailing at m own folly,
I want my life back, I pray.”
Rebecca wrote these lines and began to cry at the nostalgia. It was the fourteenth of February...
Fourteenth February… Reading this date, the first thing that comes to one’s mind is – The Valentine’s daytime! Yes, it is indeed the Valentine’s Day but not for Rebecca. Rebecca was a charming lady of xxiv when she met a man who was double her age. She started an interaction with him as an aged but gradually the ‘elderly stranger’ became a ‘ golden man’ to her.
“Hello, sir. May I share the umbrella with you?” Rebecca asked.
“Oh, of course, more(prenominal) or less lady! This roof is big enough to accommodate an holy man like you, darling. Welcome!”
Rebecca could say nothing; her cheeks flushed with red.
They walked and talked work on Rebecca reached the doorstep of her house. She had never walked from the Maylord Street till her house in Palklinn Street before. She could not understand how had the time passed. She did not sprightliness tired. Instead, she was filled with enthusiasm and ecstasy. She went jumping around creating a helluva in the house.
When she came in front of her mother, she calmed herself and tried not to look into her eye because she knew that her mother would find out her feelings just by expression into her eyes even so before she would have been able to describe them!
As the popular saying goes, “One can even betray God for a while but it is unrealizable to hide anything from your mother.” Mrs. Wilson was Rebecca’s best friend and an alter ego. She was more like a philosopher or a guide than a mother. Rebecca told her what had happened that day.
Rebecca could not sleep. She imagined the rainwater trickling down the man’s physical structure while she was having a bath. She became conscious while eating and unbroken looking...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Ordercustompaper.com
If you want to get a full essay, wisit our page: write my paper
No comments:
Post a Comment