When they fight and then suddenly stop because neither of them really wants to fight. And the fighting turn in to ironic remarks, which turn in to silly bickering and then they’re both laughing. That’s when she knows this is where she wants to be. Close to – no – on top of him, cradling her face between his shoulder blades licking salty sweat from the nape of his neck. So they lay there and watch the boats go by and the fight is already forgotten because it was futile to begin with. These are the times that will always be remembered and remembered and remembered. All she has to do is press Play, and Repeat.
xox
Emily
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