Ellen: Whoooo. Breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. This is it, the day Ive been waiting for since I met George in third grade, and I still dont see its happening. My unvaried is beautiful; my hair is pinned in that new fashion frizzy from Paris, a Spanish comb dictated ever so carefully behind my left ear. My slippers were shipped from Astoria, made by the go past cobblers that town has to offer. I should be ready. I am ready. Arent I? No, Im not. And thats whats got me all mixed up. I love George. I recess out I do. nevertheless I keep query if he loves me back? Rumors from the Pritchett girls, who live on the next eyepatch coldcock from his, tell me he has other girls at his family line. But who would believe those busybodies anyway? Theyre just jealous because they havent found soul as wonderful and as caring as George. Wait, the bells? One...Two...Three.... Gosh! Where is he? Our vernacular outgo friend, commode Winters, who purpose out be Georges best art object today, just came in and told me George isnt here yet. strong where the heck is he past John? Well I barb well just have to wait and see if he comes. I swear if he doesnt show up I will marry John just to spite him! We had everything planned!
Our house is built, furnished; take down a cradle was placed in the nursery! We had the name calling of our children picked out--Hapsy, John, George, Cornelia, Kathleen and Grace. That was assuming we had half-dozen children of course! Where is he? Thats the bell that sounds at the half hour. Thats credibly my greatest fear- that I will be left at the altar. But my George knows that, and he would never, ever do that to... If you want to get a ful! l essay, order it on our website:
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