He takes her hand gently in his and brings it to his lips, kissing it reverently, as if it were a great and delicate work of art. His voice is a whisp...r as he speaks, “Anastasia, my love for too long have we waited. Rejoice with me for on this night we are finally together.” With tears in her eyes she tries to speak but he rests his finger on her lips. “Speak not beloved, mere language cannot express the depths of the feelings we share.” She slips into his arms and is relieved to feel. He was modest in all measures of a man and, in a few of those measures, even modest might’ve been a stretch. Pale, chalky skin, a slight slouch in his shoulders which made him stand a few inches below the six-foot-even he rose to when Doc Bannion told him to “stand up straight so I can getcher height, Bobby”. Mousy brownish hair that was thinning when he was in his early twenties. He couldn’t grow much of a beard either. Kind of a big nose. The eyes were the thing, though. Pale blue, with a. More

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