She suddenly stopped, glanced at the grass beneath her sneakers, and plopped down on the somewhat green grass.

He looked down at her, puzzled, and slowly sat beside her. “What’s up?”

She turned her bright face, and he noticed that her eyes told the story of the world. “It seems to me,” she said, “that you don’t want to talk about the most important person in my life.”

His eyebrows wrinkled. “What?”

“You seem to want me to fall in love with you,” she said, gently smiling, “but I can’t fall in love with you if you’re not in love with love.”

His confused expression remained.

“What I mean is, simply put, I want to talk about God.”

His eyebrows pulled at the rest of his face. “Oh.”

“As long as we have known each other, you’ve never let me be the real me. Because you never want to talk about God’s love.”