"Genevieve, will you marry me?" He was on his knee then, a little black box, which he had pulled out of the hole in Annabelle's back, cupped in his hands.
The moment had arrived. If ever I was to need my brain, it was then. But where was my brain? Even I can't answer that. The only way I know how to describe it is I was in shock. My hands, cold and shaking, flew to hide my burning crimson face. I knew my answer. It just wouldn't form in my mouth! It bubbled up from my lungs, but snagged in my throat. Another eternity came and went. "Answer him. Answer him. Yes. Yes. Yes," became the rhythym to which my heart was beating.
And then, before my mouth could get around the word, air was rushing out of my lungs, past the snag in my throat, between my fingers, and hanging in the air between us was my answer in the form of a strangled, "mm-hmmm." After that moment, it was like someone flipped a switch. We had a purpose, a common goal, and we were going to get there, no matter what it took. Our mindset was changed for the better.
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