Take my hand for your last name….

“Tell me a story,” he asked her.

Well, one day you came into my life. We had a connection. Found our own clichés to make into happy memories. Like how I would call you every morning at 7:35am. Don’t let it be later than 7:45 am. Then you’ll know that I woke up late.

Or you know how we would eat donut sticks in the middle of the night? You knew I loved nutter butters and I knew you loved egg nog. So we would make an effort to think of the other when we’re at the store.

I like how we could sit and just stare at each other. It never gets boring. Your eyes twinkled. I can smell you from the shirt I wore to bed last night. It’s the only thing I have of yours.

Oh and let’s not forget about those three words. No, not I love you. You knew it from the beginning, that’s why this feels so different.

Now there’s a distance present. Not distance as in miles, because the miles have always been there. But a distance in our hearts. Our words are trying to find a way back to each other. My eyes only see memories.

This story doesn’t have an ending. So will you help me add more to it?

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