Love is the fact that you refer to any meal with beef and lettuce as a “taco salad.” Love is you always letting me hog the best blanket. Love is episode upon episode of Walking Dead contemplating how you would handle a zombie apocalypse.
Love is you always knowing when I need you to hold my hand. Love is writing in our feelings book every single night, and you secretly enjoying it. Love is listening to me explain the ins and outs of intellectual property to you, and you feigning interest. Love is waking up in the middle of the night and moving the dog because you know he is about three centimeters away from suffocating me.
Love is the smile on your face that only I get to see. Love is the way your eyes light up when I mention something slightly inappropriate. Love is you keeping your…
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