Promise Me Sunshine

by Cara Bastone

But the thing about losing the person you love the most on earth is—somehow—you still have to do mundane things like tie your shoes and make enough money to continue to exist in this punishing world.

This is a love story, I swear. This is what happens when you’ve promised someone you’ll live again.

They say a good suit does for a man what expensive lingerie does for a woman.

“Every time I fall in love with you there’s lightning.”

“I think that even in all your worst moments of grief, you’ve wished for companionship. I think you’re always, secretly, hoping for happy endings, even when they don’t seem possible. You say compulsive but I think they’re actually kind of just…tenacious. Like daisies popping up out of the snow. Grief has been sort of, I don’t know, it sounds sappy, but like winter for you. And I think that the part of you that can’t help but manufacture happiness, because that’s who you are, it’s been sending up these little flowers to pop up and keep you company.”

“I’m never sleeping when I close my eyes like this with you.” “Then what are you doing?” He pauses and I think he might not answer. But then he says, “I’m committing the moment to memory.”