“I like thinking that I’d be worth the trouble of something like that,” she confesses quietly. Her shoulder shrugs up to her ear. “I like thinking that it doesn’t need to be fancy to be special. Maybe…maybe they’d remember I like fountain soda best or daisies instead of roses. Little things that’d let me know they’ve been paying attention.” Her eyes lift back to mine. That twist in my chest again, sharper this time. “I like that. Thinking that I’m worth paying attention to. Something ordinary made extraordinary by the person you’re sharing it with.” She looks back down at her half-empty coffee
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