She smirks before turning her wrist over in my hand, showing me the sleeve where she’s embroidered a 27. My heart is thundering. I want to kiss her, but I know I can’t. Instead, I hold her hand to my chest over my heart like she’ll feel it beating and know how I feel for her. The immeasurable level of admiration for her gentle, glimmering heart that she wears on her sleeve so that everyone always knows how much they’re seen and loved and cared for.
