Relationships are a lot like flowers. If you find the right seed, put it in good soil, give it water and sunlight, bam. Perfect bud. And then comes winter and the flower dies. But if you tend that garden, spring will come along and that flower will bloom again. You and I both know how this thing ends. I don’t know how, or when, and I don’t care where you’re living or what dope you’re shacked up with. You’re my girlfriend. We are endgame. I know that and you know that.