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[This is the first text piece from the zine we’ve posted, by one of the most marvelous people we’ve never met.
In other news, we uploaded everything to the printer today. Barring disaster, we’ll have printed copies of Waiting for October in hand in about a week. Zounds! -Rachel & Miles]
Pete and Pete and Pete and Pete
Here is how we knew it was right:
The hours melted away and the minutes rolled over as we two would recount our lives, passing secrets, developing inside jokes, discovering a love before first sight.
Here is how we knew it was love:
Mashed together in the back seat of a crowded car, we rang in the new year with songs at the top of all our lungs, until at last, at last alone we share a bashful kiss on the curb long after midnight has passed, even though the dog next door would not stop staring at us.
But here is how we knew it was destiny:
As we unpack her things, fully integrating her life into mine—into ours—each item reveals the things we carry inside us: the things that show where we come from, that inform where we would like to go. And one item, one thing in particular, showed that ultimately, despite our disparate origins, we were coming from the same place: that we found mystery in the mundane, humor in the humiliating, and small victories in the big defeats. And if you look even now, you can see them, duplicates shelved together: Pete and Pete and Pete and Pete and Pete and Pete and Pete and Pete.
And here is how you will know it is us:
Hand in hand we crunch through the autumn leaves, a big one and a little one, smiling inscrutably at jokes that didn’t need to be spoken aloud, eternally afflicted by that deranged happiness of two people who, despite it all, have found each other.