“How would you describe love to your teenage self?” He asks me as he’s driving me to the train station.

He asks me these thought-provoking questions as he drives me to the train nearly every time. And nearly every time, I’m too tired or worn out to even think of an answer. He tries to make an English major out of me.

“Its… warm and fuzzy. Also supportive, like a really good pair of slippers.” (I love slippers, especially this specific pair of Vionic ones that don’t exist anymore. I wore them until they fell apart)

“But it’s also that feeling when you’re laying down and your back is freezing and then that someone lays behind you in a hug and your back isn’t so cold anymore. What is it like for you?”

“I don’t know.”

Ugh.