Our Story
It started with a borrowed umbrella.
We met on a rain-soaked Tuesday outside a bookshop that has since closed, arguing gently over the last copy of a novel neither of us finished. One umbrella between us, twelve blocks in the wrong direction.
Seven years, three apartments, and one very opinionated cat later, the argument continues — about where to hang the photographs, about whose turn it is to make coffee, about everything except each other.
Last autumn, in the orchard where we take our slowest walks, the question was finally asked. The cat was consulted. She approved.
And now — the best part.
