Their bodies were still entwined when they looked up: there was a mirror on the ceiling. They had heard before that the sight would be gross, that they’d try to look away.
But it was nothing like that.
They couldn’t stop gazing, not an ounce of shame in their eyes. It was them, and nothing could be more beautiful.
She says that sometimes my cheeks look puffy when I wake up. Today is one of those days, so I smile and my nose goes all bulbous. I wish there were a way she could always warn me about this happening—or not; a way for her to look at my face every morning, every morning, first thing in the morning.
When you discover that you’re powerless against fate—
Or rather, against somebody who never affixed the word ‘forever’ to your name.