The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not to twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.
Thomas Merton
Rose smoothed down her olive green skirt as she sat down, handing the whiteboard marker to Jake. They were sitting in the library, solving chemistry equations together for a study session. Jake was writing out the complicated chemistry equations on the whiteboard in the private room he’d booked for them. It had already been a few hours since they’d been at it and Rose was about to pass out; she was so tired of looking at numbers.
“I think we’ll ace this midterm,” Rose said with a yawn. She abruptly reached for her wallet. “I’m gonna go grab us some coffee.”
She walked out towards the coffee
