All I ask is that you remember our beginning. Don’t remember the ending. Stories that don’t end in happily ever after are always better read on the first page.
Somewhere, out there, exists another universe that tells a better story of you and me. We are together. We rent a townhouse in Georgetown, one made of bricks and a cherry wine door. We drink birthday cake milkshakes out of mason jars in the summer, and take midnight walks on the first snow of winter. Life is warm and familiar.