I'm supposed to get eggs.
Cereal.
Bread - yeah, we need bread. We always need bread.
Milk.
Logan wanted chocolate syrup.
I've gotta get chocolate syrup.
I don't want to get out of bed.
I want to stay here - I know here, I understand how my home works, and I want to stay where it's safe.
You know, considering the fact that I'm no longer protected.
I want those arms around my waist again.
Those surprise hugs from behind.
Stupid pick-up lines and sarcasm and Tumblr posts and soft rants and loud rants and everything else that I don't have with her any more.
But I-
I've gotta get chocolate syrup.