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03-12-2015, 05:08 AM
Ann was walking along the mountain fields filled with colorful flowers. The day was warm, beautiful and sunny. The air was saturated with smells of wild flowers. She kept holding her hat, and the scarf around her neck was slightly dancing on the breeze. She could hear buzzing of bees flying around flowers and singing of birds from a nearby forest. The expression on her face was a mixture of infatuation with this beautiful surrounding and some deep meditation.
- Ann...
She heard a voice, almost a whisper, from vicinity.
She turned slowly and, right behind her back, she saw beautiful, warm eyes of the young man she met last evening...
Mrs. Greene stopped dictating while I was typing her novel.
I had got this job a few days ago and enjoyed it enormously. It was as if I was the first reader in the world of a wonderful book.
- What do you think about the story so far?
She asked.
Mrs. Greene was not so famous writer, but I was sure that she was going to become it.
I was surprised with her question and really afraid not to tell something wrong. I did not want to loose this job because, at that time, I was student and I needed money.
After a long thinking, I dared to breathe. But, before I said anything, she warned me.
- I want an honest answer, Clare. Don't be afraid that I would fire you because of that.
She laughed. I laughed, too, because it looked like she had read my thoughts.
- Weeell...
I started hesitatingly.
- It's a bit immoral.
I whispered timidly what I really thought.
She was surprised.
- What do you mean 'immoral'?
- Ann is a married woman and, on the mountain, she meets a young man with whom is she, obviously, going to fall in love...
Mrs. Greene burst into laughter.
- Oh, my.... but, you are so old fashioned, young lady!
She exclaimed.
- OK, but how are we going to make a plot? It must be romantic and beautiful, you know...
She looked at me with her big, dark eyes and her black heavy hair was shining under the sun coming through the window of her study.
- Ann...
She heard a voice, almost a whisper, from vicinity.
She turned slowly and, right behind her back, she saw beautiful, warm eyes of the young man she met last evening...
Mrs. Greene stopped dictating while I was typing her novel.
I had got this job a few days ago and enjoyed it enormously. It was as if I was the first reader in the world of a wonderful book.
- What do you think about the story so far?
She asked.
Mrs. Greene was not so famous writer, but I was sure that she was going to become it.
I was surprised with her question and really afraid not to tell something wrong. I did not want to loose this job because, at that time, I was student and I needed money.
After a long thinking, I dared to breathe. But, before I said anything, she warned me.
- I want an honest answer, Clare. Don't be afraid that I would fire you because of that.
She laughed. I laughed, too, because it looked like she had read my thoughts.
- Weeell...
I started hesitatingly.
- It's a bit immoral.
I whispered timidly what I really thought.
She was surprised.
- What do you mean 'immoral'?
- Ann is a married woman and, on the mountain, she meets a young man with whom is she, obviously, going to fall in love...
Mrs. Greene burst into laughter.
- Oh, my.... but, you are so old fashioned, young lady!
She exclaimed.
- OK, but how are we going to make a plot? It must be romantic and beautiful, you know...
She looked at me with her big, dark eyes and her black heavy hair was shining under the sun coming through the window of her study.