12 hours of our (acrostic) love


Waking to the smell of eggs and bacon. You aren’t next to me, but humming softly in the kitchen. I hug you from behind and kiss your shoulder. You turn around. “Happy anniversary,” you say, placing your lips on my forehead. “We’re going to have the perfect Sunday”. I tell you to watch the bacon.


Up for an hour and you’re already dressed. You know it takes me too long to get ready so you don’t say anything, you just smile. I pull my hair out from its towel cocoon, letting it fall down to my shoulders. I turn around to say “What—”


“—next?” I ask, as we come back home from our walk. “Picnic,” you reply, holding up a cute woven basket like the ones from the movies. I light up instantly. “I made your sandwiches with mayo,” you say, then laugh at my squirm. “But you know I hate mayonnaise,” I tell you. You laugh once more then bring me in for an embrace. “I know,” you whisper, “I lied. I just wanted to see that cute face you always make.”


“To many more years to come,” you say, clinking your wine flute with mine. We’re at a cafe now. There’s a folded newspaper in front of you. “Look, the crossword,” you say. “Twelve across. Eight letters,” you continue. I reach for your hand. With your other, you scratch your head. “I’ve never been good at puzzles,” you say. I smile at you. “I know.”


You kiss me twice, then twice again. A sigh escapes your lips. “I love you so much,” you tell me. “I love you so much, too,” I say back. The wine has made us both tipsy. I remember the time you first fumbled over those words. You were scared of the vulnerability but also desperate to let it out. “What are you smiling about?” you ask me. “Nothing,” I hum.


“Is this going to take long?” you ask in feigned annoyance as I drag you into a clothing store. “You promised me the best Sunday,” I argue. “I promised you the perfect Sunday. That isn’t the same thing.” You’re right about that. I don’t tell you this can’t be the perfect Sunday. Instead, I say “Well, it’s the best.”


My feet begin to hurt. I start to limp as discreetly as possible but it doesn’t work. You notice it immediately. “My heels aren’t that comfortable,” I explain. You stop us there and take off your shoes. “Wear mine,” you say. “I’ll go barefoot.” You catch my hesitation and swiftly pick me up, throwing me over your shoulder. “Put me down!” I squeal. “You either take my shoes or I’m carrying you home like this,” you declare. We laugh together.


“—favourite spot?” you ask. “Yeah.” We end up on the park bench, eating chips and cheap hotdogs from a food stall nearby. We observe the people passing by, coming up with stories of who they are and where they’re headed. “See that guy carrying a frisbee?” you ask. “You don’t know him yet, but soon he’s going to be recognised as the first ultimate frisbee gold medalist from the Olympics.” I smile at you and say, “A man made to go down in history.”


Part of me wishes the sun would never set. I tell you the day has been so great, I kind of don’t want it to end. “It doesn’t have to end, you say, “not yet, at least.” I can see your eagerness. You just want to please me. I don’t tell you the other part of me wishes it was tomorrow already. “Let’s go home.”


Of all things, you extend your hand to me and ask for a dance in our living room. I accept, and you give me a twirl. You pull me close and we sway side to side, dancing to the distant melody of a man playing his guitar on the street below. “This is my favourite song,” you tell me. “I’ve never heard it before,” I reply. “Me neither,” you say. You look into my eyes.


“Any second now,” you say. I hush you. We’re curled up on the couch, watching a horror movie you picked out. I scream when the horribly fake ghost appears. You laugh uncontrollably. “I hate jumpscares,” I say out of breath. “I love how terrifying you find this unterrifying movie,” you reply.


“Day has come to an end’” you sigh. You ask me which part was my favourite. “That hasn’t happened today,” I say. You look confused. This time I’m laughing. “I’ll let you figure this one out.”

12 hours of our (acrostic) love

- waking up next to you is my favourite part of any day

Alexia Beatrice Guglielmi is currently a first-year Media and Communications student. Her favorite pastimes include reading, writing, and procrastinating from doing both. It is not uncommon to spot her watching cooking videos and daydreaming about the food.