Surprised — Part One.
There’s my girl, as cute as can be. No one would ever guess that someone could fall in love with a short, 5'3", cranky, sweet, and sometimes angry girl. “Hello?” she said, her voice filled with playful irritation. “Where were you? The gas tank’s full.” I shook off my daze and took the car keys. We drove to Starbucks, her favorite spot. I know her order by heart, but I always ask anyway — just to see that little frown on her face when she corrects me.
I can’t quite remember how I first met Melissa. A blonde, short girl, rushing through life with her phone glued to her hand. She was late for work, and I, well, I wasn’t in the best mood either. It wasn’t exactly a storybook meeting — more of an awkward shuffle. But sometimes I wonder how different things would have been if we’d met under better circumstances, without the arguments.
As I cleaned my Starbucks cup that day — because yes, I keep every cup she makes with her own hands — it struck me that she hadn’t noticed my collection yet. Over 200 cups. Each one with my name, written in her familiar scrawl. I wasn’t ready to tell her, though. It felt like my own little secret, a piece of her that I carried with me everywhere.
Suddenly, my phone rang. Her voice came through, shaky and strained. “Hey, can you come pick me up? I think I’ve hurt my…
