"I think it is entirely possible to find solace and joy in the smallest of things," she says.
He narrows his already-****** eyes at her out of curiosity."What makes you say so?"
She takes a deep breath and he lies his head on her lap, both knowing that this would be another long conversation, no, a retelling of the story of how she fell in love with him.
"Just to see you wake up, you're alive. How your eyes smile, conveying more emotions than your mouth. Your hands, I know they talk comfort when you grasp mine. Don't even get me started on your talents, they're what make you you. And your heart, in its simplest form, is pure with sincerity when you do what you love." She stops there and he looks up to her, waiting for more. But she knows she can't blurt it all at one go. It would be too much for her to say, and too much for him to comprehend.
"So is that our story?" He continues to stare up at her. She could sense a hint of discontent. It was equal to reading a book that's unfinished, that nervous anticipation for the author to release the sequel.
But instead of feeling guilty for making him feel that way, she laughed and tugged at his hair. "Why would you want me to tell you the ending? We're still a story incomplete, even if we're complete with just each other. And I don't think we'll ever have an ending."