Special

Sometimes, love overwhelms Finley. He straightens up and holds me tighter than ever and I know that while we might not have forever, while we're young enough that things can go wrong, or that people can change, that people make mistakes about each other, we have now. We have now and that's WORTH forever.

He nuzzles into me and murmurs my name, and I hear his heart, breathing in the scent of Finley.

"If you could have a romantic dinner," he said to me today, "What would you want?"

I grin, thinking he's joking. "Potatoes," I say absent-mindedly. I'm Irish, after all. When I get angry or distracted, I occasionally pick up the accent. I wish I could talk in an Irish accent all the time; I'm in love with how the syllables flow and fight with each other. I did for a few weeks when I came to Fort Atkinson Highschool. I was so nervous no one would like me that I spent all me times telling funny stories in an Irish accent. Later, Dana Traynere asked me where my accent had gone.

I pretended not to know what she was talking about... but I still love that voice.

"Seriously, Pay. Fish? Salmon?"

"Fish would be nice," I say with a smile.

"And maybe some of that fake wine you like," he said absently.

And then we went to get pudding, Apple Cider, Mint Cookies, start watching Sister Act.

And I realize I'm thinking about my Choir. The one I can't have. Maybe I should find another one.

Ubi caritias et amor
deus ibi est....

I'd be good at it.