Would you wash the dishes always, like you promised?
Would you pamper me silly?
Would you embarrass me with an off-tune karaoke dedication?
Would you get drunk on a Monday night and proclaim your love for me over SMS, sitting on a pavement, when I am away?
Would you agree to adopt a dog even though you hate them just to let me know that you love me more than yourself?
Would you let me fall asleep on your lap reading, while you did a Boondock Saints marathon?
Would you write my lines for me, and tell me that I am made for bigger things than just copywriting?
Would you write me a song?
Would you ask me spellings and doubts on the grammar of your sentences and insist that I leave everything aside to help you?
Would you click pictures and ask for my opinion even though you know that I know nothing about photography?
Would you ask me to copy-check your blog posts before putting them online?
Would you bring back bronze Jesuses for me from your trips, and bracelets that you know I would never wear?
Would you break my heart?
I have tried many times to change the way our story ends. But every time, it remains the same. It is, always, the end.