‘Will you love me in December like you do in June?’ he asked, his eyes boring holes into my skin – I could swear there are flames licking their way up my body and through my wide eyes.
‘Of course,’ I smiled. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because what you think at the dead of night can seem so heartfelt, so honest and meaningful. But by the time morning arrives it can turn into something ridiculous, an idea that is brushed off fleetingly, like a leaf floating away on the breeze. ‘
‘I know.’ I took his hand. ‘But I believe promises shouldn’t be made where there is no intention of keeping them. And I promise I won’t change my mind. I swear this time I mean it.’