by elizestrydom


I want a long communal table with bench seats, stained with red wine and remnants of the many meals shared across its surface. I want a veggie garden and a row of little succulents, a cat and a dog, a beautiful record player and art on the walls. I want the the same address for more than two years. I want something solid and reliable and known and safe; a refuge. I want a direction to head in. I want shared history and a future together. Enough of this uncertainty, this waiting.