Bob sighed as he throws another piece of paper in the trash can. He was dancing around the words, trying to write another song. You stood behind him, as he sat again in front of the desk with a pen in his hand. You rubbed your hands through his messy hair, making him shut his eyes for some seconds.
"Why don't we go out for a bit?", you ask him, still softly massaging his head.
"Right now?", he mumbles.
"Yes.", you say.
Bob spins his chair to look at you.
"I was trying to write something.", he says.
"You are trying for a couple of hours.", you say, sitting on his lap. He puts his arm around your waist. "Just a quick walk in the park and maybe you will feel inspired to write something."
Bob agrees.
"How could I deny a walk in the park with you, honey?", he asks, and then kisses your lips.
The air was cold for mid-October, but nothing that a winter coat couldn't help. You and Bob were walking side by side. He kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket because he forgot his gloves. The sky was gray, and looked beautiful. There was no sign of rain.
The leafs crumbled under your steps, making a soft sound. For some minutes you both could just walk in silence, enjoying a little walk in the park.
Suddenly, Bob reaches for your hand. You smile at him.
"I love you.", Bob tells you.
Even though you know he loves you, Bob Dylan was never the type of man that expresses his feelings, except on the songs he writes.
So you just stop on your steps and get closer to him before leaving a small kiss on his lips.
"I love you so much, Bobby.", you say.
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