When We Are Older
Veliciahwhy would you want to marry me anyhowi don t want to marryi wouldn't marry me eitherand i wouldn't marry me either
Laughing, I push his knuckles with both my palms, feigning surprise with a gasp when he steals my right shoe.
Wriggling my toes in the air, I dramatically cover my mouth with the palm of my hand. "You did not just steal my favorite shoe!"
"You have a favorite shoe, really?" Adam asks, shaking his head at my poor acting skills. He holds my shoe between his digits, out of reach from my hands.
"Yeah, there are flowers drawn on the shoe you're holding," I tell him. "I drew them myself,"
"Oh," Adam studies the shoe then, and I giggle at his serious expression.
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