dearest

one week in june, summer of 2006 from monday 19th 5:45am to monday 26th 5:45am you were so very in love (you never had been before) with an american boy named chris tinsley it felt different and more lovely than any of the others. you pretended to get married in the airport as the rain poured down before the sun came up and wore little black strings around your fingers and he promised to find you (and still, you are a little worried because he is not the one thing your parents require him to be. you're not sure how it could ever be resolved-- and so goes almost every tragic love story ever told)