a hundred things He wants to tell her about his plans for them, how he wants to spend summers in this valley with her, in this cottage, everything. Waking up in the morning kissing her face; spending afternoons in the shade, eating peaches and apples, letting juice run down their fingers and arms; making love as the afternoon cools and night falls. Instead, he takes her by the arms. He says, 'Promise me you’ll run when the time comes.' 'Why?' 'I won’t save you. I can’t win.' She touches his face. 'You will.' Her gratitude and faith are tiresome. He has nothing anymore. << [heart] >> scribble me your heart