I have to admit," she said wistfully, crossing her arms over her chest, "an unrequited love is so much better than a real one. I mean, it’s perfect."
"Nothing’s perfect," I said.
"Nothing’s real,” she replied. “But as long as something is never even started, you never have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential.
You’re always thinking. And I’m always wondering what about.
Peeling apples, just peeling apples. Didn’t feel your boobs. No, no, not me