Listen, Legs, I'm going to die anyway. I'm human. And I don't know about you, but I don't believe in visions of the future. I believe we choose our own destiny. You didn't give me a choice last time. You just left. But I'm here now. And I love you. Stay with me. Don't fear the future; we'll face it together.
It doesn't have to be on Valentine's Day. It doesn't have to be by the time you turn eighteen or thirty-three or fifty-nine. It doesn't have to conform to whatever is usual. It doesn't have to be kismet at once, or rhapsody by the third date.
It just has to be. In time. In place. In spirit.
It just has to be.
Sometimes you imagine that everything could have been different for you, that if only you had gone right one day when you chose to go left, you would be living a life you could never have anticipated. But at other times you think there was no other way forward-that you were always bound to end up exactly where you have.
I knew it like destiny, and at the same time, I knew it as choice.