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Tiny Love Stories: ‘You Have to Let Your Gut Lead’

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Modern Love in miniature, featuring reader-submitted stories of no more than 100 words.

Brian Rea

The word “love” was not in his vocabulary. Hugs made him tense. He was critical of his children, but bragged about us to others. Near the end, I sat in his hospital room, working while he slept. I looked up to find him gazing at me, misty-eyed. “I really like you,” he said, struggling to speak and breathe. I laughed, then cried, realizing I would never hear the words I had been waiting for. Only much later did I understand that I had. — Gila Silverman

An old black and white photo of the author as a baby in bed with her father who is reading.
My father and me, circa 1967.

We see flames from our porch. No mandatory evacuation — yet. But my husband and I agree. Let’s prepare. I take my parents’ wedding album. My typewritten play that only exists on paper. I scan shelves, drawers, closets. Thumbing through love letters and legal docs. Why this, and not that? Beyond practicalities, you have to let your gut lead. My husband harnesses our dog. Our cat is asleep. “Let him be,” my husband whispers. We sit, waiting. Wiggling dog on one side. Purring cat on the other. Leash and carrying case ready to gather what is most valuable. — Rochelle Newman-Carrasco

Two of my most valuable possessions, waiting calmly.

We sat across from one another at a cafe in Indianapolis on my 50th birthday, with no idea what was to come. We were two gay men who’d collectively spent over four decades married to women. I wish I could go back and have our conversation all over again. I’d whisper to him that I was going to be his and his alone. Tell him that in just four days we’d be crazy in love. That in two months, we’d be engaged. That in eight, we’d be married, till death do us part. — Matthew Bays

Selfie during Pride with my husband, Chris, who’s on the right.

At school, my friend was talking to a boy I hadn’t met before. I decided to introduce myself. When I asked for his name, he responded, “Don’t worry about it.” Confused, I later asked my friend about the interaction. She said, “If you get to know him, he’ll tell you.” Weeks later, I heard them talking again, and she addressed him by name. Armed with this precious information, I sidled up to them and also addressed him by name. Aghast, he asked, “How do you know my name?” I told him, “Don’t worry about it.” (Now well-acquainted, we three are friends.) — Kaitlyn Borbon

After school, visiting New York City’s Oculus where we can feel comfortably anonymous.

See more Tiny Love Stories at nytimes.com/modernlove. Submit yours at nytimes.com/tinylovestories.

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