Slippin In

Love here is like a natural disaster with the smell of wet asphalt and painted sneakers. It all started innocently: an evening city, a bicycle, a messy happiness where a spilled drink is almost a declaration of affection. I wanted to believe it was a movie with the credits "and they lived happily ever after." And then - boom. The soundtrack is changing. Instead of ringing laughter, the echo of someone else's footsteps, instead of promises, empty eyes and the phrase "you misunderstood everything." The heart, of course, tried to hold up, but a thousand tiny cracks can render even the strongest mug useless. But he's honest.