“Love looked like a man who had coffee ready for me in the mornings even though he preferred tea, and remembered exactly how I took it. Love ate my sugary spaghetti, and held an umbrella over my head when it rained, and apologized when he knew he was wrong. Love was inquisitive, and mindful, and – somewhere beneath the grumpy exterior – sweet. Love was tricking yourself into doing something you didn’t want to do, because you loved the person who did.”
