Lovelight Farms: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

e’s more than my best friend - he’s tradition and familiarity. He is homemade pop tarts on the first Saturday of the month. He is late-night viewings of Die Hard in the sticky summer heat, both of our phones propped up on our respective coffee tables. He is pizza with extra mushrooms and light sauce, a crust that has to be perfect.

sharp tug. A persistent and uncomfortable ache.

“I know you can take care of yourself. You’ve been doing that as long as I’ve known you. But let me hold your hand while you do it, okay?”

“Why are we slow dancing?”

Like an angel descending from the heavens, she brought zucchini bread.

If it’s a burglar, they’re being awfully polite by putting on the coffee.