Chair:
It had always been there, so Molly had begun to realize. She mentioned it to him once, something about how it seemed so out of place, that old wooden rocked admidst all the modern design of the furniture of their household. He denied it, enforced that it was nothing more that an old family relic, passed down through the lines of Black's since before the times of the Revolutionary War. There was something else though, something deeper she knew Kellan would never admit to.
And so, there it stayed.
Hair:
Long, dark, flowing, Kellan fingered a silken strand of Molly's deep brown locks. They were soft between his cool fingers. He admired the locks, colors and shades weaving together to form a single, solidified color. He braided, She slept, her head resting on his lap. Silent, perfect, entwining her hair, he paused to look at her peaceful face, and remebered, why he stayed. Love Never Dies, even when the heart no longer beats.
Tree:
Molly leaned her head against his chest, listening to his crisp voice as he read to her. She tilted her head up, gazing through the thick, green leaves of the maple tree. One hand held her own, warm and inviting. Warm, and different, so much the oppisite of the hand she'd held for so long, it hurt.His face resurfaced in her mind; a tear left her eye. The warm hand disappeared, and wiped the tear away. "Your thinking of him again," There was no shock in the voice. The warmth left her alone, she was always alone. Ever since she had sent him away, she could not be with anyone else, it was not possible. She could not be without Him.
