We went on with our lives, living the Norman Rockwell version of our painting, just grateful that from it, we gained each other. It changed her, though. I know because it changed me too. It started as an itch I couldn't pinpoint, an annoyance, a craving, the start of a vice, but then the feeling grew roots beneath my skin, spiked leaves of annoyance carrying the need through the network of my veins.
