In a February blizzard, I traveled down US-30 on a Greyhound bus. Headphones blared Vampire Weekend, stared out the window as a white-out enveloped us.
When I got to you, your Valentine's gift sat on a chipped dormitory desk. A Ben Folds CD, a box of Russel Stover chocolate, a single CVS rose.
We couldn't go anywhere, and that's exactly what we'd wished for. Tangled up in bedsheets with you, I imagined our future.
And this is what I saw.
A February blizzard, in our cozy home. Me and you. And another two.
Tonight, our memories shake from the sky like silent snowflakes. So many. So perfect. Some glitter. Some sting. But when they reach each other, they melt together as one. Just a single blanket of history covering our lives.
You and me. Together. Forever. And that's exactly what we'd wished for.