And maybe I was a tad wrong. Maybe I smelled like coffee and oversized chairs and conversation filled with laughter and memories. Maybe I showed too much appreciation, too many thanks for the good times, and maybe my cheeks burned red with happiness.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe love comes from novels and baristas and big silver bracelets. Maybe it comes in the form of piano keys and Christmas tunes and secrets that were never shared before tonight.
Maybe friendship isn't about scars or paintings or streetlights. Maybe it's more about how you interpret what you have. Maybe it's a bear hug wrapped up in time spent apart, and maybe it smells a little like coffee and apple pie and flurries of snow that never appear.
Maybe I was wrong all along.
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