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They were like… like two fingers on the wrong end of a tube of superglue. (Except that’s not right.)
Or like those horrible little spiked burrs that get caught in your socks and prick your ankles until you throw the damn things away. (Not remotely correct either, though he’d claim it until the end of time.
No, they were more like… a pair of celestial bodies on a collision course. But instead of colliding, crushing, shattering each other, one stepped just to the side with a laugh, allowing the other to be caught in the undeniable gravity between them, and they just stayed in orbit around each other ever since.
God, when did he turn into such a sap? Ugh. He was going to make himself gag at this rate.
They didn’t have much, really. Enough to pay rent and manage to eat. But they didn’t have a nice car, or live in a nice neighborhood. They didn’t go to movies every weekend. But they had each other.
And sitting here on the porch, leaning lightly against each other in the fading evening sun, fingers tangled and ankles crossed together… it wasn’t so bad, was it?