Waiting On Him Quotes Novels & Stories

You are killing me, but you have a right to. Never have seen a greater or a more beautiful, or a calmer or more noble thing than you. Come on and kill me. I do not care who kills who. - Ernest Hemingway. |L O R E N Z O| "I know where did that person called from." Mark informed giving me a new hope and bringing me out of my frustrating thoughts. "Then tell me. What are you waiting for?" I said on the phone in urgency while people around me gave me weird and concerned glances over my impatient state.

I am a person who is going to wait. I am a person who is going to wait, and I am going to wait, and I am going to wait, until the man I love comes home and says the thing he wrote on the sticky note, in the way that men say things out loud to women they love when the men are ready to say the things out loud. I am a person who is going to wait. To be continued...

Waiting for the work to finish. Ready for the life to start.

Sat. The fifteen minutes of his rotation gap passed in silence, and I sorted letters with steady hands and did not look up and did not speak, and the threads in my chest burned with gold warmth and patience and the long practiced certainty of someone who has been waiting since she was seven years old and has learned how. He stood to leave. Paused. I looked up.

Waiting for something. Anything.

he says. “We have been waiting for you for such a long time.”

“Seems like I have still arrived even though how I wanted to walk much slower than that.” Chad interrupted. “No matter how fast or slow you are, you are still going to arrive at the destination you were supposed to be.” Ethan said, “Feeding me up with words of wisdom, huh?” “What I’m saying is,” Chad said as he leaned his head to his steering wheel, “No matter where you are right now, I know you’ll be with me someday, and it won’t matter how long or how fast you arrive at your destination – which is me because I will wait.”

I laid my half-assed theory before him, and he only scoffed, “Call me superstitious…” He paused long enough to recline back into his seat, his chin dipping lower until he stared at me through his lashes, “-but I guess I have been waiting for the ‘one’.” He made a slight quote with the gesture of his fingers, and I gulped. ‘HAVE BEEN’ Was he still waiting? Did he find him already? DON’T BE SILLY. YOU KNOW WHO MEANS BY THAT.

Not pressing. He extended his hand from beneath the blanket and looked at his palm. The lily of the valley mark was nearly invisible in the sconce light. But he knew it was there. Dim for so many years. Dimming from the day Aurora died, all this time. He did not answer her question. He did not know which one he had been waiting for. Perhaps both. Waiting for her to return. Waiting to forgive himself. Neither had come. "Neither." His voice was steadier than he had expected. Ashes seeped from his palm, a thread of silver-gray, like a wisp of smoke in the sconce light. "I was waiting for someone who would let me stop waiting."

I never imagined that these words can come out of his mouth. "I know you are not ready and I will wait till you are . My wife I respect your decisions and can wait for you . Now at least I have someone who will wait for me and welcome me after a long and tiring day . Who will be with me no matter what . Whome with I can have my family and can spend my life with." His words throw me from a hill . It's like I slipped and never landed. I wasn't able to say anything and so I didn't.