Tiny Love Stories: ‘Never Forget Me’

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

Black ink streaked Renny’s soggy poster, blurring the letters in “Black Lives Matter.” After a period of distance, we had reunited in his condo, making posters on top of the bed we used to share. It was raining that day in Toronto. Hundreds of feet sloshed in the puddles on Yonge Street. People chanted, “No justice, no peace.” Renny chanted with me. He will never understand what it is like to live in my skin. But that day, for that protest, he marched next to me. He marched for me. — Daniel Reale-Chin When my mother walks, her left foot makes a popping sound. Every step is audible. It’s always been like that. She doesn’t know why or particularly mind. For me, the sound is like a ticking clock; my brain mostly tunes it out. But I’ve noticed it more since the pandemic started. What I’ve grown to love most about her popping foot is that it never stops. Pop, making dinner. Pop, walking the dogs. Pop, dancing in the kitchen. It never stops and she never stops. All it takes is hearing that pop to remember and appreciate all my mother does. — Connor Buckmaster Sofia and I spent the summer of 2011 together — hearing the Creole Choir of Cuba, walking through History Park in San Jose, Calif., eating ceviche. I kept wondering: Are we good friends, or are we dating? I got my answer in a kiss. A year later, Sofia proposed. I didn’t say yes. I said, “What’s the point? It’s never going to be federally legal in the U.S.” We bet $5. In 2013, the Supreme Court granted federal recognition of same-sex marriages. “I guess I have to marry you,” I said. “Yes,” she said, “and you owe me $5.” — Andrea Temkin