The reasons are irrelevant. Or maybe they aren't, but, regardless, I don't feel the need to provide them now. You'll live without them. In any case, it was a Thursday. It was a Thursday in which I was crying pathetically at my cubicle and couldn't for the life of me stop. My boss tactfully told me to go home because hysterical behavior makes people uncomfortable.
On the way home, I did the sensible thing and called Drew. He asked me what was wrong, and I gave him the only answer I had which was nothing, but also everything and I'll see you later, sorry I'm crazy and I love you. He responded, casual and amused, with, That's alright! I love you too.
Because that man understands me.
What I remember are the buckets of freshly-cut Snowballs from his parent's yard. There was some sort of flower disaster, and if it weren't for the blooming Snowball bushes three years and two days ago, I shudder to think of what a drab affair the wedding might have been.