You say you’re an open book.
But I’ve never read you before.
I’m enticed by the cover, wrapped in red and displaying a smile, for sure.
With anticipation, I sit down to read you.
Over dinner. Over drinks. Over a long ride home.
And you never fail to engage me, to make me laugh.
I can’t help but lose myself in the story.
It’s honest. It’s warm. It’s about the struggle to understand.
In some ways, I know it well. That struggle afflicts us all.
But the obstacles feel more distant in your company — easier to forget.
So I keep turning the pages. I want to know more.
What makes your story resonate with me? Where is it going?
I hope I’m allowed to keep reading, to unravel this mystery.
The journey seems to bring out the best in me.
I’d like to think it also brings out the best in you.
It feels like I’ve seen it glowing in your eyes, your smile and the warmth of your voice.
Yes, keep writing the pages. Make every word count.
And if you like, I can offer some help.
It’s the least I can do.
Your story gives me strength to push the sky away, to see new opportunity.
That is a powerful gift.
That is all in you — an open book, a tale anew.