And there didn’t have to be an ending. I could be like this, with him, hands on skin, and how was your day, and lips that tasted like sweet mint, and never feel unsatisfied. We’d fallen in love sometime between then and now, between the pages of our youth and climbing trees and the touch of his hand in mine and the heartache of missing each other. We’d found a way to this, to these familiar days and nights, and I couldn’t be happier.
