When she struck the match, the flare was small. It barely illuminated the corner of the room. But in that tiny spark, she saw the dust motes dancing in the air. She saw the outline of the door. She saw that the darkness was not infinite; it was just a lack of light.
The first step of love didn't belong to a prince charming or a sudden stroke of good luck. It belonged to her. The Story Of A Lonely Girl In A Dark Room- Love...
