We’re under the same starry sky,” I say.“We always are.”“Not together,” I argue.“I think we’ve always been together, even when we were apart,” he says, slipping his hand around mine.“I know it’s a cliché, but sometimes I would look up at the stars and wonder if you were ever looking at them at the same time,” I admit.“When I looked up at the stars, I saw us. You were the stars, and I was the dark sky behind you.
-Jenn Bennett
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