How do you know what love is, will be, will become? Or if it will hurt?
You don’t. You really don't.
But that’s the beautiful thing. You let go. You hope. You free fall.
And somewhere along the way, it all makes sense.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Nothing in this story may be reproduce in any manner, either part or whole, without any written permission of the author.
- Cath
