My love of the little things

It was the little things, his sturdy chivalrous manner. His silent but opinionated intellect. The way his crooked smile lifted when she walked in a room. But most of all he was there for her without needing to say it; she could feel him there whenever she thought she may stumble, whenever she did stumble. And even if he was not prepared to catch her, he stopped her from falling, prevented her from crashing, at every chance he thought he could.

Miss Mess


About iheartmess

A Middle Eastern Londoner 20-something living the 'western' life in between London and home.
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