Annabel grabbed at her skirts, walked out of the room and onto the terrace overlooking the grounds where party revelers were gathered. She rested both hands over the rail and directed her gaze towards the oval-shaped balloon decorated entrance where a young man she knew to be thirty-one years old was standing.
He had managed to command for himself the attention of everyone present, including the two white fluffy dogs whose breed she could not tell because of the ghastly fusha-coloured garments they had been to wear, obviously against their will.
Continue reading
anishagold 