watching gondolas outside my window

the flowerpot lay shattered on the marble floor. she would be home any minute from the lower east side, and his eyes frantically darted from the mess spread upon the kitchen tiling to the dustpan. before he could even make up his mind, the doorknob began to turn and a pair of red converse darted into the apartment. she was back. he held his breath as she examined the scene; she moved calmy around the flowerpot and specks of dirt, before caressing his jawline in embrace. "it's okay," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his, her affection proving to him that she wasn't at all upset with what happened. "i thought that was your favorite flower," he said, putting his hand on hers. "it was," she answered, staring into his pale blue eyes as she smiled. "but you're my favorite person."