Perfect

He is my soul mate.
The way he delicately presses his hand against mine,
The way we sit there, wrists intertwined.
Every day, my heart skips a beat as my phone rings.
It rings with energy, as if it knows who lingers on the other line.
I pick up the phone, hands trembling, heart racing.
As his voice quietly projects across the city, through the wires, and into my awaiting ears, I realize, that he is in fact, perfect.





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