I have a secret. BUT. I'm not allowed to tell anyone. Mr RedBerries has told me not to tell anyone.
He's not ACTUALLY Mr RedBerries.
In my head, I think of him as mine.
If his name gets mentioned in conversation, I'm thinking.... He's mine. All mine.
It's a shame that at this particular moment in time, he's not technically mine.
People know we're friends, and sometimes they ask me about him. Or they'll tell me an anecdote that involves him. Or just randomly I start thinking about him.
They don't know that I know him so well now. We've talked about here and there and everything in between. The past, the present, the possible futures. The what ifs, and the maybes. The cars, the houses and the babies.
I worry that some things are too good to be true.