We walk together, you and I, just a little behind the group. You see them ahead, laughing, joking, wrapped up in their own little world. But I don't mind. In fact, this is exactly how I wanted it—just the two of us, falling into step, slowly drifting away from the noise. I wrap my arm around you, pulling you close, feeling your warmth against me. There’s something perfect about this moment, like everything I need is right here at my side.

Every so often, I give you a gentle squeeze, or press your arm a little closer to me, like I can’t help but remind myself that you’re really here. It feels so good—so easy—walking with you. The air is cool, but I feel warm, content. With you, I’m always full.

Then, without warning, the sky opens up. Rain pours down in thick sheets. The others scream and scatter, running off to find cover, but I’m not thinking about them. My eyes catch the outline of an old phone booth just up ahead, and without a second thought, I take your hand and we run, our feet splashing in puddles as we hurry towards shelter.

We make it just in time, slipping inside, barely fitting together in the small space. The rain pounds outside, streaming down the glass, turning the world outside into a blur. The windows fog up quickly, and suddenly it’s like we’re in our own little world—quiet, intimate, cut off from everything else.

I turn to look at you, and you’re already watching me, eyes soft but with something else—something deeper. I press myself closer, our bodies fitting together naturally in the confined space. My hands find your face, and I gently trace the curve of your cheek, then your lips. My heart is pounding so hard, I wonder if you can hear it. The closeness, the quiet, the way you’re looking at me—it’s overwhelming. I lean in, my voice barely a whisper:

"You look beautiful today... and always. But especially today. Right now."