We were perfectly placed, perfectly disposed to one another. Our pieces fit so well together, not in the way that puzzle pieces are carved to click, but in a clumsier, more accidental way; we were a city skyline – unplanned architectural mastery. Designed by the heavens, and you called me your angel – even when I was undeserving of that accolade. You’d call yourself the devil and I’d feel betrayed. Because for me, we were the same, either two sinners or two saints.
