Here's an excerpt from an old post of Dave Pollard's.
In the Spring of 1969 I fell deliriously, profoundly in love with a tiny, intense young woman of quiet and staggering intelligence. Joanne was an accomplished pianist and flautist who planned to study music at the renowned Eastman School of Music in Rochester, New York. I wanted to study philosophy and political science and creative writing and an extensive and incongruous group of other subjects. But most of all I wanted to travel the world with Joanne, to transport us to some wondrous, distant place, wrapped in a mutually-woven cocoon of idealistic emotional and intellectual passion and protected from an outside world that I saw as nothing more than a coarse and rude intrusion into the perfection and purity that was we two.
Source: How to Save the World
I'm sure most of you have known a Joanne (or a Dave). For her sake, and for your own, do find the time to read the piece.
Talking about stories takes away from their charm, so I won't type a letter more.