Forgot we were in front of our friends, the genesis of it all fading to black — me and her in the backyard of our house on that island, my hand in her hair, her hands on my chest — might as well have signed my life away in the moment. Never again would a day go by where I didn’t think of her, where she wasn’t my very waking thought. Maybe that’s unhealthy, maybe that’s fucked up, or maybe I just love her how someone like her deserves to be loved. I don’t know.
AW
