“Israel, do you take Tolani as your lawfully wedded wife, to care and hold, from this day forward, for better and for worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish, until death do you part?”, the priest asked, in partial fulfillment of the vows to tie the nuptial ties between the two love birds.
With ring in hand, Israel looked straight into Tolani’s eyes and it told a story to him. A story of romance. A story of pure love. A story of unblemished affections. A story of where this love story all started.
Damon staggered into the fairly big warehouse on Third Main Ave. The warehouse was old, abandoned and practically deserted, save for the spread in the corner, which served as his bed, some bundle of clothes tied together to make a pillow, some beer cans and cigarette studs littering the ground as well as a wooden chair, standing against the wall. Damon moved briskly across the room to the chair, blood oozing from his side, a wedding ring in one hand and a Russian Army dagger in the other. He got to the chair, a reasonable distance from the door, and sat on it, facing the door. He raised the ring in his blood-stained hands to his eyes, smiled weakly, and whispered, “I avenged you Kate. I fulfilled my promise.”
Nearly half of her dressing up session was spent in front of the full-length, expensive mirror enframed in neat, hand-carved mahogany wood. Lizzy was busy checking out the best outfit for the evening as she rummaged through her wardrobe and ransacked her make-up kit. She had been at this for nearly an hour and had roughly two hours more to the late-night date. She was a kind of person that believed in first impressions and she knew she had to make this count.