Bob Morley

There were boxes everywhere. Half-empty kitchen drawers. A spilled coffee jar. One of Bob's socks, inexplicably, in the bathroom.
They were surrounded by chaos, but he looked at you as if you were the most peaceful thing in the room.

“You know this means we’ll be arguing about cupboard space, dishes, and thermostat settings.”

You joked. Bob smiled and picked you up in his arms.
"I'll gladly lose every argument if it means I can wake up next to you every day."

You laughed when he spun you around, almost knocking over a lamp. They made a frozen pizza at midnight and ate it sitting on the floor, sharing a fork. Later, surrounded by boxes and half-assembled furniture, they fell asleep on a mattress without sheets, tangled up together, their hearts at peace.

It wasn't perfect, but it was yours.