You used to say rain was just the sky crying that we were apart. I’d roll my eyes, think about kissing you and saying, “you’re so dramatic” all at the same time.
You’d roll me over in bed, pull the sheets around us like some tightly wrapped burrito. You were one of the few I liked this feeling with. The closeness never felt claustrophobic. It just felt right.
“Okay, so maybe we actually did something dumb and it pissed off Zeus,” You explained this new theory, thunderstorms echoing in the distance.
I liked this one much better. Less Nicholas Sparks, more in-line with my childhood obsession with Greek Mythology. You loved working these references into conversations. You said it was like gaining pieces of me you didn’t have the privilege to know firsthand. All of my nostalgic stories, like how often I would take home books on Gods…
View original post 181 more words