Unlikely Story

by Ali Rosen

Being able to build a life where I get to introvert alone is one of the greatest advantages to aging.

I’d rather have one person who really knows me and understands me than try to spread that out across people.

“I have one friend like that,” he says, stirring to readjust his position. Sitting on the ground for hours on end is not going to feel great tomorrow, but there really isn’t another option. “I feel less lonely when I can talk to her.”

HE HAS TO BE THE GUY FROM LONDON

“I’m fine,” I say, still looking away, now nervous at what I’ve started. Nervous that I poked so much that I made that inevitability happen. But he gently places a finger under my chin and tilts my face up so I can see him again. “I know you’re fine. But I can’t help how much I like seeing you smile.”

“I think about you too much,” he finally says, planting a kiss behind my earlobe and making me shiver even more. “Even when I was mad at you, I wanted you.”

“You feel like home,” he says quietly, running his fingers along my smile, tracing the happiness he’s unleashed. “These last few weeks away . . . I thought writing to you or calling you would be enough, since we’d done it for so long with so much less. But that wasn’t enough anymore; I want it all now. I meant what I said before—I love London, but this is where I belong. I love you, Nora.” “I love you too,” I whisper.