Falling in love again was simple.
It was the marked way that he’d cross his legs, ever so swiftly and controlled, in the middle of conversations that did not matter. The gesture was either a show of confidence or vulnerability rather than practicality. In my eyes it was divine, and I longed for the repetition. I longed for all sorts of repetitions that no one else noticed.
But with every in love there is an out love, and I was powerless to outlaw it.
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