fifteen february
eight : twenty p.m.

he promised not to send me anything.

opened the package. another box. a little one, made out of construction paper with a heart and my name on the lid. inside, a photo of him (because he knew i wanted one, and he never lets me take them myself), and a short letter.

it was all intentionally child-like and whimsical and wonderful and i still love him even though i've been wanting other things very badly.

music : emeril; radio
literature : magazines
fixation : wshc