and the catching up they do on lonely days while waiting.
I can't write it off as lust, for it would have actually worked out.
Now in love with the wrong man, the one man in the world that I cannot feel this way about. If she came again into herself, could you really pass her by? I understand that we were the cynics, the two who laughed in dark corners while everyone else reveled mindlessly, but long ago, she would have been there, too.
Is that the point? That now is now, and since we only have the future and not a moment of the past, we should run, run, run with it? Three dreams last night, and your hair, and pranks and shouts and hiding more. I'm not opposed to the city, if someday we can retire to a country house.
