Sometimes you wanted to believe you'd been born to hold each other. In all miraculous ways your bodies fit together, in all ways they seemed to gravitate towards each other, hoover and cycle and collide, but never shatter, never wound in any way wrong.

Even when he hurt you, he hurt just right.

As though you couldn't see his calloused hands holding anything in the the oh so perfect way they held you. You wanted to deceive yourself, wanted to dip into the fantasies of a world where he...