Russian Kiss
Page 3
by M. Demetrice
“Indeed I did.”
Out of the blue he asked: “Zontie, will you marry me?” I can’t speak, I am dumfounded, speechless. “You were all I thought about while I was away. Many times, I awoke wishing you were lying beside me. I need you, just like I told you five weeks ago. I love you. Will you marry me?” He pulls out a diamond ring.
I nod, my voice gone, my tears answering for me.
The ring fit perfectly.
“I love you,” he says in my language.
In his original dialect, I reply, “I love you, too.”
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M. Demetrice