The m is perfe memory, a late-summer day when blue skies foretold the ing autumn crispness. Sped I had awakened o each other in a sea of books, thehe library in those magically empty moments between parents going off to work, or children off to school, and the hour when stores and businesses opeheir doors. By my stone dar, five long and miserable years had passed since our dimiribe took up our new home, and we had grown weary of the dark. Time away from the mine iably brightened Specks mood, and that m, when first I saw her peaceful face, I loo tell her how she made my heart beat. But I never did. In that sehe day seemed like every other, but it would bee a day unto its own.
Overhead, a jet trailed a string of smoke, white against the paleness of September. "We matched strides and talked of our books. Shadows ahead appeared briefly betweerees, a slender breeze blew, and a few leaves tumbled from the heights. To me, it looked for an instant as if ahead o……（内容加载失败！）
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