Sitting on the wooden porch were two rocking chairs. One empty, one holding a boy sipping from a glass bottle. The porch was a dark brown with authentic wood, which after years suffering through hurricane seasons, had splintered. The boy wore a cap, black and facing the right way. The white fabric hung off his shoulder, made for a man far bigger than he was. Around his waist a plaid red jacket tie...

“Don’t you think we’re too young for marriage?” He asked. “Not at all” I replied. “We’re in our prime aren’t we?” The leather couch in my parents basement made an awful noise when he got up and dusted his pants.

“Right.” He stared at his phone. He got down on one knee.

This was it. The moment he said he wanted me and I could wrap my arms around him. He’d say he didn’t care who I was, he just w...