Anecdote Love

Stories and Musings from a girl named Harvey


6 Comments

Thistle

Thistle

Thistle

She leaned back and peered over her book at Timothy.  He wore a red sweater with yellow chevrons under his tweed jacket.  He didn’t match.  In fact Timothy never matched.

He was the sort of person who always wore two different colored socks.  As if it was beyond his comprehension to put on two black socks with matching shoes.  Thistle softly smiled at his peculiar shoelaces.  He was wearing blue shoelaces with maroon aglets. His shoelaces had been the first thing she noticed that day he came into the agency.  The day her chest tightened and her breath stilled.

Continue reading