I draw my finger over the dirt near my leg, writing out the letter E. Next to it, I add L. Ellis plucks the flower from his tux, setting it on the ground below my scrawl. I do the same with mine. As we sit beside a sea of corn in our wrinkled, black tuxes, our declaration of love on the ground between us, I twist my fingers with his and make a promise. “I love you, too, El. Always.”
