Andrew Lieberman
After dinner, I drove my car and stopped at a supermarket. I wanted to come to her with something she likes, so I picked up a couple of pints of her favorite ice cream, chocolate chip cookie dough, and a rose. Just one, simple, nothing extravagant, just a symbol, a little token to let her know that I see her, all of it. Most importantly, even when I see her wound, her insecurities, her trauma, I love her, despite that, including that.
After my pit stop, I arrived at her place. I parked at the visitors' parking lot, and while security was clearing my access, a delivery guy entered. "Delivery for Anderson, Penthouse," he said, and I chuckled. It smelled like Chinese food.
"Drop it here..." The security guard said, and then finished clearing my access.
"Are you sending
