I want to go somewhere new and I want to take you with me.
I smiled and couldn't believe that this man could stand me enough for a trip.
He began doing little things; tying my shoe, hanging a picture.
The little things grew to be big things; buying me a camera, meeting the folks, cooking me dinner.
I really don't deserve him and yet somehow he thinks I do.
He is handsome and cool. No, not like Arthur Fonzarelli; better. Not like the cute guy at school, either; better.
I asked him. "Why do you love me?"
He said, "Because you're you."