Dear Isaac,
Today, we got in a fight.
A fight, you ask? A 'lover's tiff.'
It honestly ranks as the stupidest thing I've ever argued over.
It was about leaving my toothbrush at your place. Somehow, it turned into us yelling at each other about how 'we were taking things too fast,' and that 'there is no need to be in a rush.'
With my toothbrush in hand and my mascara dripping down my face, I left. I can still hear you calling my name, chasing after me.
'Chandler, you know I didn't mean it like that.' In what way did you mean it, then? Enlighten me.
I look forward to the days that we shoot together after this.
Chandler
