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“You’re making it difficult for me to do the things I should and not the things I want to. It’s a problem for me.”
Rora laughs, a soft, twinkling sound that settles deep in my bones. She so rarely does it. I think I fall in love with the sound a little more each time.
It’s my expression that makes my breath catch in my throat, though. Because I’ve been photographed with a lot of people in my life, and I’ve never looked at anyone like that. “Do you have a place like this? Somewhere you can just be?” I can see it on my face on the tiny screen; I found it. And it turns out it’s not a place after all. It’s her.
“How does the saying go again? Wear the hat, ride Santa?” Holy fucking shit.
