“Study break!” you declare boldly, slamming down your pen and tipping your seat back. The rickety kitchen chair teeters dangerously on two legs, and something motherly catches in my throat at the sight.

“Alright,” I agree quickly, in the hopes of getting your posture back in my comfort zone. You cheer like a child, and I smile.

Without warning, your arm jerks out in a sweeping motion across the table and a jarring THUD-THUMP announces our books tumbling down to the pink tiled floor. They nearly clip my cat’s tail as they topple over each other into a pile of FINAL EXAMS; she hisses and becomes a blur of orange cream. Then she is gone.

In one fluid motion you are upon my scarred oak table. Legs dangling, you purse your lips and tug your copper hair behind freckled ears. “Kiss me,” you insist.

I stand in a melting air of familiarity and lean against your knees, considering. “Hmmm,” I hum calmly, casting a flickering look over my shoulder, “okay.” I lean some more.

“No, wait, not here!”

I jerk back with laughter dripping down my flushed cheeks. You are so predictably unpredictable.

Before I can ask where, we are hand in hand and you are dragging me with earnest through the kitchen and out the back door.

It’s warm outside and the clouds smell like summer. “Come on!” you beg with childhood in your eyes. We titter; then you are sitting cross-legged in the grass and I am in your lap. Oh, gravity.

“Here?” I question, twisting my spine to look you in the eye. Our noses touch. You smell like sun.

“Almost,” you whisper like the Cheshire Cat.

Gingerly we fall back into the earth—a tan knot of limbs and grass. You press a dandelion behind my ear. Simplicity.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?”

“Peace. Passion. To feel needed and whole.”

“You can’t pick more than one.”

“Why not?”

“You just can’t.”

“Fine. I pick you instead.”

“You already have that.”

“Oh. I guess I don’t need that other stuff then, do I?”

“Guess not.”

We flip to our backs and hug the sky.

“Look,” you say, “an airplane.”

“Let’s name it.”

“Can we name it Love?”

“Sure.”

We watch Love in silence until in falls off the horizon. “Good bye, Love,” you whisper softly.

“Here?”

“Yeah, here.”

I understand.