3.21

"There's something about that girl," I thought to myself, "which vaguely worries me. I think she might . . . like me, or something." This thought, of course, was patently ridiculous. Why else would she be wandering aimlessly around our mutual grave-ridden night-time safe haven, if not to avoid talking to me? No, certainly not. I'll have to check.
She of course tells me far after the fact that she had decided that night to marry me. This was before we fell in love, mind you. Long before, when the world was wet with dew from the first sunset and lovers grew on the grass.