Categories > Anime/Manga > Legend of the Galactic Heroes > pale september
"I'm going to show you something," the girl next door said to him, and before he could ask if he had a choice she had him by the wrist and they were moving almost shoulder-deep into the sunflower bed, great yellow faces bobbing all around them and then into the dark maze the hedges made pressed close together, and then she stopped and, lifting her smooth dark hair away from her head with one hand, presented the side of her face to him. He blinked and rubbed his eyes on the backs of his knuckles and looked at her and the sunlight falling through the leaves framed perfectly her small white ear with its exquisite curves and hollows like a strange snail's shell, so that he felt he was looking at the most perfect ear in the world but secretly, through a window. He felt a tugging at his heart, but he knew he hadn't fallen in love.
"Don't tell my mother!" she said, and then he realized she really meant to show him the three tiny gold studs lined high in the delicate blood-pink rim of her ear.
*
"I'm going to show you something," Jean said to him, and before he could ask if he had a choice Jean had him by the wrist and they were moving across the asphalt, heels skidding on the tarmac where strips had been worn smooth by the eternal passage of heavy vehicles, and then Jean stopped, someone was playing the piano for sheer love of the way ivory felt on fingertips, it sounded; they were looking through a window, another window, and he felt a lurch as if time was unraveling as smoothly as a clever pair of hands pares an apple of its skin in one long unbroken strip.
He felt a tugging at his heart, but he knew it was Jean who'd fallen in love.
"Don't tell my mother!" she said, and then he realized she really meant to show him the three tiny gold studs lined high in the delicate blood-pink rim of her ear.
*
"I'm going to show you something," Jean said to him, and before he could ask if he had a choice Jean had him by the wrist and they were moving across the asphalt, heels skidding on the tarmac where strips had been worn smooth by the eternal passage of heavy vehicles, and then Jean stopped, someone was playing the piano for sheer love of the way ivory felt on fingertips, it sounded; they were looking through a window, another window, and he felt a lurch as if time was unraveling as smoothly as a clever pair of hands pares an apple of its skin in one long unbroken strip.
He felt a tugging at his heart, but he knew it was Jean who'd fallen in love.
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