WHY

When romance ceases to be cinematic and turns into the cosiness of everyday trifles - a bottle of your favourite drink bought just in time, meeting at half past ten without being late, knowing someone else's habits better than your own.

And at that moment, a strange bewilderment arises: why am I so lucky? After all, it doesn't sound like a loud declaration of love, but like a quiet, almost mundane miracle - to be so needed that even a shirt fits less snugly than the feeling of ‘you are my person.’