Years later, I lay on a beach writing, the sun glinting off my diamond on my hand. He walked over to me, singing softly.

“Hey” He asked. “Whatcha writing?”
He sat down on my blanket and looked over my shoulder are my journal. I had always loved to write, as did he. It was our favorite past time and we grew off each other.

“Non-fiction this time.” I replied sketchily.

He raised his eyebrows, knowing we both preferred fiction to non-fiction. “Is that so?”
“Yep.” I smiled. “You know the story. Almost as well as I do.”

“Hmm. Well, then may I read it?” He asked, reaching over and taking my journal from my hands. I didn’t mind, we didn’t keep anything from each other especially our writing.

I watched his face as he read my words. A smile crept across his face. When he finished he handed me back my journal, a full out smile on him face.

“Beautiful, just like it’s author.” He said.

“It’s just our story. Don’t give me credit for writing the words we both know so well!” I laughed and kissed him.