I sat in front of my laptop, composing an email to you. A long one. A sad one. A depressing one.
And your text came in, asked what am I doing. “Writing to you,” I said.
As if it was a cue, you started to talk about some funny stuff, followed by the list of things you want to do with me when we’re together, ended by thousand of I love yous.
I drowned in. Completely forgotten about the email I was supposed to send you.
How I admire the way you handle things.