Jerome was there, sitting in front of the TV with his laptop on his lap. "Hey." He gruffly said, waving a hand."Hey." I replied lightly."Gym was nice?... He asked."Yeah." I replied breathily. "Just need a few seconds more to catch my breath is all." He nodded and went back to his work.Lazily I watched TV. I wasn't quite sure what was on. It was a scene of four dudes with white outfits and bowler hats beating each other up while classical music played in the background. I didn't really get art. His eyes focused on what his fingers were doing, caressing her neck and cheek, willing her to understand the depth of feeling he had for her. Wishing he could transfer to her how much he loved her. Change. What is love? he considers now. Loving another means being willing to change those things within and without ourselves, to accept love over pain. For Her he was willing to change. Poetry was the smoke-filled air that made his chest ache, velvet were the sheets that could not house enough. More

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