"Remember when people used to say we would break up?" she asked.
"Yup," he replied and laughed. "Now look at us. Ten years . . . and I'm still not used to your mood swings."
"And your farts."
"And your beauty."
"And your intellect."
They laughed and kissed, embracing each other's greatness and imperfection.
"And I still love you," she added.
He replied, "We are the counterargument for the two-year relationship endgame."
"I know. Maybe we complement each other so much."
"Or maybe we had fights, we decided to work on them, not sleep on them."
"Yes, I loved that about you."
"And I loved that about you too."
"Well," she whispered and held his hand, "Thank you for not quitting on me."
"You know, love, I've got to admit," he replied, "It was as if . . . every day that I'm with you feels like the night you said you love me too."
YOU ARE READING
Tales of a Girl
Short StoryAt night, she pulls her blanket to herself, takes her pen, and remembers every detail in her life. She had a lot to write about her regrets of the past, her doubts of the present, and her worries for her future. She did not want to think, but she st...
