Love, she concluded, was a circuitous mountain road paved in promises, dotted with signposts for all the disagreements and reconciliations, abraded by footsteps headed towards the future. The real adventure, he scribbled in his travel log, wasn't the raucous escapades, but the process of incrementally growing closer, slogging through disputes and spelunking through the ominous tunnels in each other, always coiling their fingers together instead of turning back huffily in pride.

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