Even though they're called short stories, they're a bit long. To make it easier, I included a table of contents at the beginning and at the end, so you can scroll through different stories easily.

I had it. Right there.

No one was looking. I was alone in the garden. Although it was hardly a garden, claimed entirely by blackened trees and bushes drier than the desert's sand. In the absence of better words, I’ll call it a garden.

The Dead Garden.

In the midst of the ash and the death, there it was. A pomegranate tree. Living, no, surviving. Its leaves were as dark as everything surrounding it, but the fruit it bore was bright red. It gleamed in the darkness, drawing me in.

It was the only living thing across these lands. I have spent hours looking at it through my bedroom window. The vivid red conjured thoughts of blood.

Perhaps they were grown from the blood of the innocents who crossed this Kingdom too soon. My hands certainly gained a murderous look after I picked one and cracked it open.

I had been fasting for almost three months. Even a Goddess like me could feel her body weakening. Though I couldn’t die, I certainly was praying for a way out of that wretched place. Suicide had crossed my mind a million times, but my mother kept visiting my dreams, giving me the strength to endure another day of torture.

But on that particular day, it wasn’t my mother on my mind.

On that moonless night, I caught the pale guard sleeping at my bedroom door and made my escape. I was being held captive by Hades, the infernal king. He kidnapped me himself with the intent to forcibly marry me. Fortunately, I knew the Laws of Gods. He couldn’t marry me without mine and my parents’ consent. I knew my mother would never stand by this.

That night, I had a chance to run away and I took it.

I was finally free of that stoned, grey Palace. I knew there was a door in the garden that led outside, to the gates of Hell if I could follow a sinuous road that crossed the Village of the Dead without being noticed. And, of course, without touching the Waters.

All I had to do was run through the garden and cover myself well under my black cloak. But I was weak. I hadn’t eaten in what seemed like forever, and my body was betraying me.

I couldn’t eat, I know I couldn’t. But if no one saw me, maybe I could get away with eating just a few pomegranate seeds. Just enough to fuel the journey ahead of me.

I kneeled on the floor. The cracked pomegranate was so tempting… With a quick look around, I picked one seed and quickly put it in my mouth.

An explosion of bittersweet juice got me teared up. I grabbed another one, and another, and another. The fruit was heavenly, something I could barely remember feeling. How did a land filled with ugliness create something so beautiful?

Afraid of getting discovered, I got up and ate three more seeds before hiding the pomegranate under my cloak. No one would ever know what I’d done if I left Hell before dawn.

I ran to the high walls, blindly searching for the metal door. My heart was speeding in my chest, and I could hear my shallow breath like it was a scream in the middle of the silent night.

At last, I touched the thick metal doors. I grabbed the handle and quickly opened the doors. It creaked loud, and a lantern with a blue, bright flame was lit up.

"Who’s there?" - a male voice was heard in the night. When I left the Palace, the guards were changing shifts, but now they were ready to attack if needed and focused on their duty.

I didn’t waste more time being cautious. I ran through the thin dirt path down the hill, hoping I could get to the Village before they realized I was the one in the dark.

I overheard horses and shouts of men behind me. I was close to the end of the hill, and I knew I had a chance of hiding in the alleys of the Village if I was strong enough to get there.

I quickly grasped for air. My naked feet were burning from the poison ivy I had stepped on.

The sulfuric air made it hard to breathe, and my thin, weakened body was starting to fail me. Tears started falling down my cheeks, hot against the cold skin.

I hadn’t stopped running, no matter how hard my body begged for a break.

I was now in front of a thin river, and the hill was behind me. I had to be very cautious. If I touched the Dead Waters, I’d be forever lost in the sea of agonizing souls. It was just a stream, but it was more dangerous than the ivy I had stepped on that was now turning my feet black.

I carefully crossed the thin streamlet, and as I looked behind me, I noticed how the lights were approaching me. I had to be fast; otherwise, they would catch me and imprison me again.

Or much worse, if the gardener noticed the lack of a pomegranate I’d be doomed to marry Hades, that bastard, and live forever in that cursed place.

Gaining courage, I started running again towards the Village. I could see small houses becoming visible on the outskirts but the horse hooves hitting the ground were getting louder and louder.

"Pardon me, dear Mother, my pillar of peace. Help me and please forgive me." - I murmured, in despair.

They were too close, and I still had the pomegranate with me. I had to get rid of it and fast.

Finally, I reached the alley leading to the inner city streets. The Village of the Dead was now right in front of me. I couldn’t give up; I had to keep going.

I hid in one of the tortuous streets. I still had some advantage; nobody knew I was gone, only the Palace guards. If I kept my head low and my cloak tight, I could maybe cross the Village before they could catch me.

I discreetly let what was left of the pomegranate slide out of my hand. It ended up in such a dark corner, that no one would ever find it.

I looked around for any sign of the top of the ridiculous bronze statue that stood in the main square. I’d been there before, in one of Hades’ failed attempts at courtship. Showing me his Kingdom didn’t provoke any feelings within me other than the desire to escape.

If I could get there, I would find the way home. I remembered the path to Olympus.

The once silent Village was now starting to wake up. It was almost dawn, and with all the noise the guards were making, everyone was looking out the window to know what the fuss was about.

I kept walking as fast as I could, even though the blackness of my feet had gone up to my knees. The poison was burning my veins, and the pain was becoming excruciating.

"In here! She’s in here!" I looked up to see a pale woman with greasy, thin black hair in a piece of rag, screaming at the top of her lungs shaking one blue-flamed torch in a window.

My once pure, loving heart was now filled with hate. I took a second to take a good look at her face and look her in the eyes. I would remember her and would come back for revenge.

I wasn’t able to run anymore. I was trying as hard as I could, but my legs were becoming slower and slower. Almost ready to give up, I finally found the main square. The chalky paved stone floors were cold beneath my feet. I had no idea how I got there, but there it was: the giant, bronze, pompous Hades statue in the middle of the square.

Refusing to quit, I started running again. Across the damned square, there was a street that could lead me home.

My feet were ice cold, and every step felt like needles poking my soles. The poison made my blood hard as stone, and my skin was rotting. I was crying compulsively. At least, as compulsively as you can when you’re running for your life.

I heard the horses and the men screaming behind me.

They had found me.

I was almost there.

So, so close…

The morning breeze was gently stroking my face. The sun doesn’t shine in Hell; there’s always fog that keeps away the bright light. But the skies turn white. And the white skies were already awaking, finally saying goodbye to the darkness of the night. The misty streets had no secrets now: everyone could see me.

The street was just one step away. I never got to cross it. I felt a large calloused hand grip the back of my cloak and yank me upwards. Just as quickly as I was lifted, I fell down again with a force. The air was knocked out of my lungs, and I thought I was going to die.

After a few rapid breaths, I realized what had happened. I was now laying across the body of the horse. I could feel the guard’s pommel digging into my side. Tears were quietly falling down my face as I stared at the sky and tried to breathe.

"How did she get here? Look at her feet!" - The rude man kept commenting on my body with his peers while he tied me down, first like I was an object, then like I was the devil itself.

"We will go down for this." Underneath his anger was a tremor of fear. They both hated and feared me. No one was able to survive the poisonous Ivy, let alone run and walk all those miles.

While the troops regrouped to take me back to the Palace, I saw a golden shine in the sky. I blinked twice, to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Maybe I was… After all, I was supposed to be dead after the Ivy’s poison.

My heart skipped a beat when I realized what the shine was.

"Hermes! Hermes!" - The messenger of the Gods was here. I started shouting with the strength I had left, crying like a baby again.

He came closer, firstly curious, then appalled. Upon seeing Hermes, the guards pushed the horses to gallop towards the Palace. I was Hades’ dirty little secret, and no one outside Hell should have known about me. "Persephone?"

"Tell my mother! Tell my mother!" - I kept shouting the same, hoping he would hear me in the midst of all the noise the men and horses were making. We were moving fast, so fast Hermes himself couldn’t fly alongside us.

Without any more tears to shed and a renovated sense of hope in my heart, I felt my lids becoming heavy and everything went dark.

I woke up later that day in my bedroom. My body hurt badly, and when I tried to move, I noticed I had both legs wrapped in bandages together. I couldn’t run away now, not even to the bathroom.

"Don’t move; you need to rest." - Hades was sitting across the room, hiding in the dark. I pretended he hadn’t scared me and sat up to face him, with a daring look in my eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

"I was worried about you," he said as he got up and walked over to me. He sat gently on my bed, trying to avoid my aching feet. "What you did was foolish."

"Foolish?" My burning anger was visible on my face, but he didn’t seem to notice. "Foolish was you kidnapping me. Let me go! This madness has been going on for far too long."

"I must. Your mother is coming with Zeus. I must let you go." A flicker of sadness crossed his stony expression. It passed in a millisecond. If you blinked, you would’ve missed it.

Meanwhile, my heart was burning with the good news: I was finally going home.

"I love you, Persephone."

"You’re sick." We stared into each other’s eyes for what seemed like an eternity. He was clearly hurting, but all I could feel was anger and disgust.

My mother burst into the room, breaking our connection. She wailed in pain when she saw me, tears running down her face. I was sick, had lost a lot of weight, and my previously vibrant skin now looked dead and pale due to the lack of sun and food. She ran towards me, hugged me crying, cursed Hades, and threw him death stares only a mother could.

She took my face in her hands, kissed my forehead, and my cheeks rapidly. Zeus came in and looked down at his brother, still sitting on the bed.

"Hello, brother." Zeus smirked.

The old hate towards his brother overcame the pain he was feeling about losing his beloved. He cleared his throat, and stood up, putting on a serious, unreadable face—the King’s face, as I’d later come to call it.

“Hello, Zeus.”

“I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s not as funereal as I expected.”

“How nice of you to find the time to visit our parents. I think the last time they saw a face other than mine was… three millennias ago? I’m sure they miss their son, the usurpor.”

Zeus’ smirk faltered slightly. “You know why I’m here.”

They stared into each other's eyes, noses wrinkled, mouths tight. I stopped listening then. My mother was trying to lift me and loosen the bandages, so I could walk. I hadn’t been able to say a word yet. I was in too much shock, and I could barely believe I was finally going home.

"You will pay for this." My mother bellowed, pointing one delicate finger towards Hades with unbridled rage. Hades said nothing, but a slight smirk fell upon the corner of his lips. After all, she was Demeter. A Goddess capable of great harm, just not in Hell.

When I was finally up on my feet, a deformed servant burst into the room. "My King!”, he urgently yelped.

His tiny little legs stopped abruptly at the sight of four deities in that cramped cell. At first, his eyes opened in surprise but he quickly adjusted his features upon making eye contact with Zeus.

“King Zeus!" After two clumsy and awkward bows, he ran to his Master. Hades leaned down to allow the servant to whisper in his ear. His expression slowly changed as he listened.

Zeus had sat on the chair, watching them with a flicker of amusement, internally judging Hell’s routines and inhabitants.

I didn’t care to find out what he was saying. The Hell drama didn’t interest me at all and my legs were starting to swell. I gently pulled my mother’s white, silk sleeve and gestured to her that we leave.

She gave me a curt nod and wrapped her arm around my waist to help me walk to the door. We made it no more than seven steps before I felt the air shift.

"Stop!" Hades commanded, with a little, evil trace of a smile. "Persephone, do you know the rules of Hell?"

My mother stopped in her tracks. Her back stiffened. I looked up from my poisoned feet towards her face. Our eyes met and she closed hers slowly as she sighed in exasperation. She took one look at him over her shoulder and after analyzing the smile on his face, assisted me in turning slowly to face him.

"Yes, why?" My voice was dry and empty of emotion.

"Well, I was just informed you ate a pomegranate from my Garden. If you know the laws, you know what this means…" Zeus and my mother looked at me with doubt.

"She didn’t eat anything. She wouldn’t!" My mother said, becoming defensive over me once more. Her grip tightened around me. Her nails dug into my skin but I ignored it.

Zeus was alerted to the shift in the air and stood up straight. His demeanor became serious and he threw a worried look at his sister, who had an animalistic glaze in her eyes. He knew how dangerous she could be and he didn’t want to disturb the delicate balance on which he had built his throne.

"Oh, but she did. Seven pomegranate seeds, to be exact." Hades then took the damned pomegranate out of his pocket smiling and showed it to everyone. There they were, the seven holes where the seeds used to be.

"It’s impossible! You’re lying!” Demeter shrieked.

Tears started running down my face. I weakly grabbed her hand. Her nails were starting to hurt, and she needed to hear me.

"It’s true, mother. I didn’t eat anything else, but I was so weak yesterday that I had to. Otherwise, I would never have gotten to the Village."

She hugged me fiercely while I burst into tears.

"No! You won’t take my baby.”

She turned her desperate face towards Zeus with green pleading eyes.

“Zeus, there must be something you can do!”

He shook his head slightly and started to formulate words.

“She’s your daughter too!”

“Demeter, I…”

“I won’t grow another seed or grain until she’s back home. Your beloved humans can die of starvation like my beloved daughter almost did."

"But Demeter, you can’t…" Zeus’ eyes widened at the mention of the possibility of destruction of his creations. He stepped forward with both arms extended in an attempt to reason with her.

"Watch me!" She roared while hugging me strongly.

Zeus took a wary step back and huffed a sigh. He sat on the chair once again and interlocked his palms in front of his face. He looked at both me and my mother at the door and Hades in front of him, standing tall, pale, and proud.

His eyes traveled between him and us. He sighed again and scratched his head, thinking about what to do.

"Demeter, I understand. You want your daughter back. But she did eat Hell’s food, so, according to the law, she has to stay here."

My mother opened her mouth to interrupt him when he met her eyes with an intense, dangerous glare. Her mouth quickly closed and she lowered her gaze.

"Since both of you aren’t ready to let her go, I suggest a compromise. As you both know," he took a moment to look into the eyes of both, "in a compromise, no one is truly happy with the result.” Silence. The King was speaking and no one would dare to even take a breath, besides Hades.

“However, considering the difficult situation we’re in, I think it’s the only option. Demeter, you get to have Persephone for six months of the year. She can now return home, and you can stop the curses you’ve cast on mankind. Hades, you’ll have Persephone here, in Hell, during the other 6 months. You’ll have our blessing for the wedding, and she’ll be Queen of Hell and sit next to you.”

“Absolutely not!" My mother shouted.

"Demeter, this is my final decision." With a threatening look in his eyes, everyone in the room knew the decision was made.

And that is how I became Queen of Hell.

I got trapped in the underworld because of seven small pomegranate seeds.

People who say details don’t matter clearly don’t know what they’re talking about.

It was a beautiful spring day. The sun was shining on the light blue sky of that April afternoon.

She was standing on the train platform in her navy blue and red plaid mini-skirt and a long-sleeved white shirt. Her age was given away by her black all-stars and the backpack in her hand, though her blonde ponytail, bright red lipstick, and long, red trench coat balanced over her shoulders added a few years to her young features. 

She had a gigantic smile on her face and a dreamy look in her eyes. Looking from where he stood, she looked like she had just wandered out of a Bronte book. He didn’t know it, but she had her favorite book inside her backpack, Jane Eyre. 

The train finally arrived. 

She disappeared inside. He picked up the pace and followed her in, wanting to watch her a bit more. She was very beautiful, poetic even. She was the kind of girl worth following inside a train, especially when it was the train he was waiting on. Would he have the courage to talk to her?

Probably not. There aren’t men like that nowadays. Before cell phones, and Instagram, and easy fixes, men had the courage to try, and most of the time get rejected. But it was worth it because all it takes is that one girl to say yes, the girl who wouldn’t reject them and would be worth the wait. 

In her world, she liked to imagine that there were guys like that, courageous, pure of heart, and strong, looking for a bride, instead of a one-night stand. And she was right, there were. But she wouldn’t find any on that train, though she didn’t know that yet. 

You see, reader, she was elated, and elated women always see the best in people. She had just won her first writing competition. Next to her favorite book, in her backpack, she had a newspaper containing a dedicated article alongside a group photo of awkwardly smiling girls. She wouldn’t frame it until many years later. She will hide the newspaper in dismissal because no one besides her favorite teacher will congratulate her. No one will show any remote sign of pride, and she has too low of self-esteem to feel it by herself. At least when she gets home. Now, on this train, she’s in heaven. 

So she sat down, unaware of the cute, black guy sitting a few rows in front of her. She looked outside, to the platform where she stood seconds ago, and took a deep, relieved breath. Her dysfunctional family never saw writing as a suitable career and reminded her every day when she brought up her desire to study Literature that she wasn’t going to be the next Sophia de Mello Breyner or the next J.K. Rowling.

She could be, at best, the next big manager at an important, international company. And she better make good money because her father was not going to support her financially after she turned eighteen. But she was stubborn, an ideologist, like her dead mom, so she would never take the management degree, and she would never work at a big company. She was meant to do something greater, and she felt it on that fluffy seat, looking out the window. 

It’s even fair to say that on that day she had a glimpse of her future life, and everything felt right. She finally felt like everything was going to be okay and her career was just starting. It was the first stone of the road she was building towards happiness, unbeknownst to her.

Overwhelmed with a strong sense of hope, she gazed around the carriage and she saw him. Looking at his phone, like a good specimen of a 21st-century man. 

She took a long, good look at his muscular arms. His dark skin seemed to glow in the golden afternoon rays. His black curly hair was a bit too long on the top, making his head look abnormally rectangular. 

She took note of that, and his defined chest in his burgundy t-shirt. Realizing it had been more than a moment, she averted her gaze to avoid being caught. After all, no one likes to feel undressed by a stranger's eyes. Predictably, as any other hormonal teenager, she couldn’t keep her eyes away for too long. Due to her current state of boldness, she let herself imagine all the things she would do if she had the chance. 

Eventually, the guy looked up. Their eyes met and she quickly looked away, blushing and pretending she was admiring the view. He noticed, so he kept his eyes on her, and on how the afternoon rays danced on her golden hair, making it millions of precious shiny strings.

Wondering if he was still looking, she quickly peeked and their eyes met again. Now, reader, there’s something you need to know about this girl. She was a romantic and wholeheartedly believed in fairy tales. Every night, instead of watching a regular series or TV show, she would watch Disney movies on her VHS and she would fall asleep with the hope of finding her one true love. 

It’s not surprising that when their eyes met, the first thing that crossed her mind was love. “Is he the one? Is this how I find my husband? What a cool story to tell our kids!” So, obviously, she maintained eye contact and ignored her shyness for as long as she could. After seconds that felt like years, she looked away again, this time smiling and biting her lip, something she did when she was nervous. 

The guy stood up and walked to the empty seats in front of her. He took it as the green light he needed to make his move. He was a gentleman and he would never talk to her if he thought she wasn’t interested, but because she so clearly was, he decided to take a chance. You see, he was also a bit of a romantic, looking for love and a good woman to cherish and care for. But, that day, he was thinking more about having a good time, than a long one.

They couldn’t have worked out even if she wasn’t so young. His mom taught him right and he was a good, respectful man, the kind of rare man you only see in movies. She had no idea what it meant to be in a serious, real relationship. That knowledge would only come a few years later when she met the love of her life. I guess the man on the train entered her life for only two purposes: one, letting her know that not all men are the same, something important because it fed her hope of finding her soulmate, which happened eventually. And two: giving her a good story she could use later on.

She noticed him approaching and the butterflies in her belly transformed into giant seagulls fighting each other. She tried to contain the nervous smile on her face and dared to look at him, blushing like the shy sixteen-year-old she was. 

“Hey.” He sat in front of her with his irresistible grin and a pair of shy brown eyes. He looked younger now that he was closer. Her interest slightly decreased upon noticing his irregular beard. She loved a strong, black beard and this guy was too young to have it. 

“Hey.” Her shy, happy smile didn’t reveal anything but her respect for him. After all, he actually stood up and approached her. She had never met a guy with his courage before. 

I’ll spare you the boring conversation. To be fair, she won’t even remember his words in a few years, only the excitement she felt. She will play this moment in her head for months and think she could have been so much more interesting. I agree. Their conversation was nothing special, what’s your name, what are you doing here, how old are you, (to which she answered nineteen because the guy was twenty-three), and precisely when the magic was disappearing and that incredible conversation was becoming rather painful, the train lady announced his stop. 

And watching their future fade away between her fingers, she gladly gave him her number. And after he left, she watched as him and the platform and the buildings passed by with a renowned sense of hope in her heart. 

Maybe her life was just beginning. Maybe she didn’t have to stress about tomorrow or about her seventeenth birthday coming next month. Maybe she wasn’t a complete failure and she could not only become a great writer, but she could also find love and someone to heal the wounds trauma had left. Maybe, just maybe, she was worth it and she could have a great life.

And she was right. That writing contest prize was indeed her first accomplishment and many would follow. The man of her dreams would meet her when the time was right and would rock her whole world. And together, they would heal her wounds and make her whole again, or at least as whole as an orphan can be. And he would be her biggest, sexiest fan and support her work every day, like no one before him. 

She just didn’t know it yet. So later that day, when the man from the train called her, she answered and lost an entire night’s sleep talking to him. I still think about that encounter every now and then. Not because of the guy, even though I still remember his name, but because of how right I was to be hopeful. You see, reader, life has a certain magical way to tell us we’re on the right path. And hope is certainly an assertive hint of what our future holds for us. 

We just have to trust the process, no matter how hard that might seem.

Some passions are hard to forget.

My relationship with the Coconut Rice Cake solid shampoo started as a no-strings-attached thingy in Zagreb but eventually grew stronger.

Let me tell you how we met.

The year was 2019. The winds of change had started to rise, and a 19-year-old me had departed to Croatia for an adventure. 

Traveling alone for two weeks could seem daunting to most same-aged girls, but not to her. That fearless lass had been going on adventures for longer than she could remember: she was the definition of an explorer and knew she could overcome everything she encountered. So no, fear was not packed for that trip, only excitement and her travel journal!

Zagreb was the first city she met, her first friend. The old lady had gone through war, death, and limitless suffering, but she had also survived that, and now she would rejoice in her victories, telling the tales of a not-so-old fight for independence. There was something magical and godlike about those old soldiers from her stories, and Zagreb hadn’t lost that mystic bravery. 

She looked after her. Zagreb would blink her eye at the young girl and smile with wisdom, telling her to learn to respect her seasons and teach her lessons that still remain with me today.

She ate sweet strawberries on her avenues and listened to inspiring street music sitting on sidewalks with her pigeons, unaware of the love story that was awaiting her across one of those streets.

One day, the city smiled at her mysteriously. She wanted to show her something, some hidden secret. The old lady led her through the magical streets, knowing something she didn't. Suddenly, a floral smell filled the air. Confused, the girl looked at Zagreb with a question forming on her lips.

"Where are you taking me?"

Of course, the old lady just laughed and told her to keep walking.

"Are you not gonna come with me?"

"This one is your moment, dear."

Already getting used to the mysterious ways of the old lady, she just followed the scent. It was so sweet, so delicious that she couldn’t avoid following it, even if she wanted to.

"Where is that smell coming from?", she asked while looking obsessively around, trying to solve that puzzle. 

The scent got stronger, sweeter. She saw a big Lush sign a few meters away. Was that… a store? She got closer, and the smell got inebriating. Yes, it definitely came from that store!

She walked in, shy at first. 

Soaps and bath bombs in funny shapes and colors filled the space. Where was she? Her old friend laughed again and whispered in her mind “I have someone I want you to know”.

A lovely man smiled and welcomed her into the store.

“Who, him?”

“Oh no dear… wait and you’ll see! There are passions you don’t forget and love that never gets old...”

"Hi! Welcome to Lush! How can I help you?"

"Hi! I’m a bit lost, I just followed the floral scent, which led me here. What exactly do you sell?"

"Everything! Shampoo, toothpaste, conditioner, anything you need, really."

"It’s all solid! - She looked astonished as the guy showed her around."

"Yes! We do have some liquid products if you prefer. We strive to create the most sustainable products with the most natural ingredients. "

She looked around with a childish smile on her face. She was in the paradise of self-care. Zagreb was right, that was exactly what she needed.

And then... she saw him.

The most glorious, nice, solid shampoo made of coconut.

He was very good-looking, white and pink, with a lovely tiny yellow flower giving him the most charming look.

She got closer, mesmerized by the way he smelled.

The store guy introduced them. With him came a promise of sweeter times, filled with a gentle presence and a companion for her adventures.

And she fell in love right away!

However, they had a rough start. She wasn't ready for a commitment, she was traveling around and looking for something to help her during those tribulated weeks, so she didn't want to admit she liked him way too much.

She honestly thought he was going to be another one of those shampoos you use for a while and then get tired of, so they started as "just friends", even though his smell and the way he made her hair soft were silently winning her heart.

It's fair to say he wasn't just a friend.

Eventually, my past version gave into her heart and feelings and decided to commit to taking him home and never replacing him again.

Of course, it didn't go exactly like that because life isn't a "forever happy" type of movie, but they did find their way back to each other again and again.

We still do.

My old friend Zagreb was right - there are loves you don’t forget and passions that never grow old, and my Coconut Rice Cake shampoo is one of them.