caught the tiniest glimpse of the man he used to be—the one who carried me uphill in the pouring rain because my heel broke, who kissed me good night every night no matter how late he came home, and who attempted to bake one of the elaborate cakes I’d saved on Pinterest for my birthday. His cake had come out decidedly un-Pinterest-like, but I’d loved it anyway. It was the thought that counted.
grace (ophelia’s version) (jess’ version) and 1 other person liked this
