We drank Richebourg wine out of plastic cups. Slightly tipsy, we planted fake flowers in the garden you did not have. As I watered them in vein, I was reminded of what could have been. ‘What could have been.’ The four words that bring me the most pain. I began to feel uneasy, so I drank some more. I drank and then drank some more, until I no longer felt the heartache. Then I placed my hand in yours and we walked back into the real house. That was always our sixty minute story. On repeat, and never any different.
“I love you, you silly girl.” She said as she ran her fingers through my hair.
Suddenly everything was fine. We would go on to do this a thousand more times. As long as she loved me.