Fiction. 1 minute to read.
All I can think about is a life with you. Laughter in a room painted blue and white, the clouds and sky that make our strong roof. Maybe a dog that goes “woof.” Baby in your arms, cradled, warm grass under a fig tree. I hope that’s a life God intends for me. And if not, no, I won’t let those desires rot; happiness isn’t bought and life’s a melting pot, stirred round-and-round the river bend, singing three words: “try, try again.”
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