Tiny Love Stories: “Skin to skin, we drink beers at 3 p.m.”

Modern love in miniature, with reader-submitted stories no longer than 100 words.

Disdain to delight

The American woman sitting with us in a Capri cafe didn't see the smirks of the impeccably dressed Marcello Mastroianni lookalikes at the next table. She was middle-aged, disreputable, a little overweight. They were in their thirties and thin. She said almost none of her cruise ship passengers came to Capri for the day trip. No more smirks. “I don’t want to miss a museum, a square, a fountain, an enchanting place,” she said. “I want to experience everything. Love life! Drink it! Otherwise, what's the point? » The Italians smiled warmly. No more smirks. — Mara Melandry

ImageViews of Capri.

When the pressure is too much

“What does our friendship mean to you? » I asked him, a hint of anger in my voice. I believe friendships are like a scale or seesaw, requiring both parties to contribute to achieve balance. Recently, I felt like I had put more effort into our relationship. But if he thought we were just casual friends, maybe I had no right to be upset. Shortly after asking the question, I realized that I wasn't looking for his validation as a friend but as a lover. And our relationship was never meant to carry that kind of weight. — Shawn Tran

ImageTogether in an aquarium.

Holy Cow!

For years, I begged my mother to throw away her felt cow refrigerator magnet. Dull avocado green and harvest gold, he asked, “Holy cow, are you still eating?” I rolled my eyes at the cow as I often did at my mother's presents: the "Miss Marple" bucket hat, the wicker turkey basket, the battery-operated Santa who shook his hips and shouted " Ho, Ho, Ho.'” After her death, I missed these well-meaning, typically motherly gifts. Then, while going through his things, I found the cow. Now on my fridge, it makes me think of her and smile. Tactical, perhaps. Honey, always. — Ann MacDonald

ImageClose-up of my mother's cow magnet.

Right in front of our view

A burst of green from her Los Angeles apartment window. Holidays and heatwave, we drink beers at 3 p.m. We met a few months ago. Now we're curled up together on his queen size mattress, soaking...