A/N: My parents split up a couple years ago… Wow. It doesn’t seem like that long until after I say it… Anyway. One night I was lying in bed thinking, and suddenly this awful realization came crashing through my mind:

I am the product of a love that no longer exists. So is my sister.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m okay with it by now. I’m used to two houses, especially since they’re not that far apart. And my parents don’t hate each other. On the contrary, they’re good friend. But every once in a while I start to think too much about it, and then I get thoughts like these. So I’ll be updating this little… not really ‘story,’ more like a set of drabbles, as I come out with the ideas. But I’m not going to sit down and deliberately make myself miserable – I’m just going to write as I think of it.

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Children come from love. Life comes from love. True life can’t be created without some kind of true love.

Right?

So it should be simple.

If there’s no love, there’s no child.

Right?

But then things change.

Then there are fights.

Arguments.

Compromises.

Then another house. Close by. So it’s fine.

Right? Isn’t it?

Shouldn’t it be?

Then the fights end.

“Friends.” They’re still “friends.” But they’re not in love.

So what does that make us?