It’s so easy for me to write the ending of things. Why maybe I don’t know how to start this journal, why it took me so long to text you, but I knew what I wanted. I knew the middle was gonna be rainy days and cuddling with a movie, a cup of tea when we wake up from a nap, listening to music all day, playing music, even though you don’t know how, and I don’t really either. After a shower you smell like them on Shea butter can you hold each other. I’d have to put a sweater on because your wet hair makes me cold. We go to the bookstore every Saturday and get a snack after. Sunday mornings will be for swap shops and thrift stores, the evenings for sage and acid jazz. Will go to target and call out vacation, kiss each other every time we say goodbye. I knew the middle well. The middle play it over and over in my head. I dreamt of the middle, prayed for the middle. But once again, I started writing the end.