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“We light the sparklers Parth found in the garage, and we write our names in the dark, impermanent but all the brighter and more blazing for it. This is how I used to think of love. As something so delicate it couldn’t be caught without being snuffed out. Now I know better. I know the flame may gutter and flare with the wind, but it will always be there.” — Emily Henry
We light the sparklers Parth found in the garage, and we write our names in the dark, impermanent but all the brighter and more blazing for it.
This is how I used to think of love. As something so delicate it couldn’t be caught without being snuffed out. Now I know better. I know the flame may gutter and flare with the wind, but it will always be there.