It has now been exactly six months. And I still love her, more than ever. I feel the pressure of the everyday life coming in, and life is no longer the rose petals and bird song it used to be - but I still want her, need her, and long for her when she is away.
When we started, we said that okay - let this be a summer romance, if nothing else.
The nights turned dark, and we were together.
The leaves turned red and yellow, and I still spent my money on flight tickets.
The trees became barren and lifeless, and she still sat on the train for hours to come to me.
The snow has fallen, and I look in her eyes and still see that same twinkle that seduced me on that night.
Six months is not really that long for a relationship. But it's a good start. A very good start.
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