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“Twenty-six,” you said, before I could ask you.Everyone was gathered around, or anyway they were around us, swirling like loud, bad surf. The crowd was low in the mix, a few yelps, a few catcalls.“Twenty-six,” you said again, to the crowd, and took a step toward me. “Don’t,” I said, though I couldn’t decide. “Twenty-six,” you said. “One for each day we’ve been together, Min.”Somebody oohed. Somebody shushed them. “And I hope that someday I’ll do another something stupid and I’ll have to say it a million times because that’s how long it’ll be, together with you, Min. With you.” — Daniel Handler
Twenty-six,” you said, before I could ask you.Everyone was gathered around, or anyway they were around us, swirling like loud, bad surf. The crowd was low in the mix, a few yelps, a few catcalls.“Twenty-six,” you said again, to the crowd, and took a step toward me.
“Don’t,” I said, though I couldn’t decide.
“Twenty-six,” you said. “One for each day we’ve been together, Min.”Somebody oohed. Somebody shushed them.
“And I hope that someday I’ll do another something stupid and I’ll have to say it a million times because that’s how long it’ll be, together with you, Min. With you.