Simple as that
"We're all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn't. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing." - Charles Bukowski
My thoughts are swimming in my head as I grasp her hand, holding on for dear life. Her hand is cool in mine, her hand gripping mine as much as I'm gripping hers. It feels right, like we're supposed to holding hands, walking up a very irritating hill, watching the brilliant oranges blur together. I suppress a smile of pure contentedness.
The sky is cloudy, and the air smells damp: it's going to rain soon. Her blonde hair flails around her shoulders as she walks beside me. I've never felt happier.
"Teddy," she says, her hand loosening her grip on mine every-so-slightly.
"Yes, Vic?" I reply, sounding oddly formal.
"I love you." And her grip tightens again.
And, because it feels right to say it, because it's what I feel, I say, "I love you too." And I wonder why we'd never said it to each other in the whole year and a half we've been together.