It is the way your scarlet curls fall around your eyes and the way we feel sparks when our skin touches just because we think we should, just because they tell us too. It is the way I sit criss-cross applesauce in my bed with the covers over my head and the way the breeze comes in through the window at night. It is the way I wear your camouflage shorts every time I miss you and the way the sun looks in my room at five 'o' clock in the afternoon. It is the way I never like the way I look and the way your lips feel against my cheek. It is the way you always order my food for me at Denny's and the way I always I get mad when you do it, just because that is the way it has always been. It is the way you sleep with one leg out of the covers and the way I steal all five of the pillows. It is the way you gaze into my eyes after weeks of being apart and the way I melt every time you do so. It is the way we wait and sit and wish for something to share even after our chance at sharing is long, long over, because the little things are so beautiful and strange, but true. Oh, so true.