The White Rose : Part 3
(Part 1 from 1. Fiction.)
The Diary of Danny Jenkins
This the Lords year of June 3rd,19 hundred and 59
It's summer and all I'm really thinking about, is the next door. His name is Chris, I still remember the day I met him. It was at my school, wells high school. I remember him walking in through the front door, of the school with what looked like his mother. From that first moment I laid eyes on him I could not look away, I don't know why I couldn't, look away from him but looking at him was a very nice view. I still remember the way he walked through those doors so gracefully like an angel.
His blood red hair cut in that perfect cut, his lettermen's jacket, his blue jeans, his white t-shirt. it clung to his body ever so nicely. While I write this, the thoughts of the events that have happened over the past few weeks from meeting him to holding him in my arms, to our kiss our sweet chocolate velvet kiss. The Night air was perfumed with Roses sweet, fresh Roses.
Here in a little bit Chris will be joining me and my mother for dinner. We have the table set sweet magnolias in a vase fine china, forks and napkins pressed like you where going to a nice French restraint. Candles flicker all throughout the room. Time to put on a nice shirt and look my .
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