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Sometimes…we have to let the people we love most go, you know? If it’s what’s best for them.”
“He’s like… If niceness were a man,” I say. “His eyes are warm like brownies. And he’s all muscly in a kinda soft way? Like a loaf of challah. Add some chocolate sprinkles on top for his hair, and there you have it.”
Because his smile isn’t just nice. It’s that feeling you get when the sun comes out and your skin warms and all you can do is turn your face toward the source of that heat because nothing has ever felt that good.
“Pretty sure I’m out,” I tell him. “Not that I made an announcement or anything. Wait… Do people do that? Should I send out cards?”
