an open invitation
be an open book
be an open question
be an open secret
keep an open mind
It was that Donald was in love with Marie and that she was in love with him.
Everyone knew it.
Their friends knew it. Their families knew it. Their acquaintances knew it. Their enemies knew it.
The postman knew it.
The pub landlord knew it.
The TV repairman knew it.
The situation was.
Everyone knew it. Everyone.
Except, it seems, them.
And, then, one day, Donald, who had always about his relationship with Marie, suddenly had a revelation. What had he been thinking? It was crystal clear: Marie was the one for him. This wasn't anymore - what everyone else had known for ages, he now knew too.
There was nothing to think about. Nothing to consider. Nothing, in fact, to wait for.
Donald, who worked in an office in Land's End, dropped the file he was holding and, without waiting to pick up his coat, ran out into the blizzard and didn't stop.
He ran down the street, up a road, and clean out of the village.
And he kept on running. The wind howled and the snow fell, but he just ran and ran.
Heading south-west, he reached Glasgow in two days. But he didn't stop there.
He continued, running and running, down the west coast of Scotland, across the border into England, past Liverpool and Manchester and on and on.
All the time, he was just thinking about Marie. He had to be with her, he just had to be.
Days passed. A week. Donald didn't stop.
Eventually, some nine and a half days later, Donald approached the tourist centre at Land's End where Marie worked.
He slowed down a little. He knew he had to see her whenever he wanted, but he had never used it. What if she refused him? He couldn't bear it. He had run all this way, so certain, so convinced with every fibre of his being, but now, so close, he lost all conviction.
He decided to turn back. It would be for the best. Yes, he would go back.
But right then, Marie saw him. She screamed with joy and ran up to greet him.
He had made the right decision, after all.
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