Picture this.We’re lying downat the beachour backs on the sandour fingers intertwined.You’re complaining about the sandand I’m complaining about your complainingand I flick sand at youand you pretend to be angryfor a minuteish.We’re gigglingand flicking sandand holding handsand understandingthat feeling people talk aboutand the world stopsthe sun steps outgiving us privacy.The moon peeks inthrough theContinue reading “Picture This”