He was falling. Without any resistance from the air, dust particles, old girlfriends, his parents, or anybody else in his life, he was falling.

He fell straight into those bushes out beneath her window.

Underneath those bushes, he scratched his head, wondering how he'd gotten there. Oh yeah, puppy love. He had just wanted to get out of that place. But he kept coming back, time and time again.

He was a bad boy, who couldn't even manage to grow up enough to be worthy of this pull back to her that he constantly felt. She was too good for him, and he knew it.

One thing he didn't know was that she saw him, every time he fell back and floated away again.
She wanted him to stay there, on solid ground with her. She didn't need this habitual pattern of his; he kept falling and then floating away again, back to the clouds.

But she couldn't fly back to get him. So wait she did, on her balcony, for his return.

---

She tired of his falling, so she wrote him a note and left it in the bushes. The note read:

Grow up, or go away. I know you've been having trouble. It's time to settle down.
Please.

When he got the note, he fell one last time, and on purpose. He landed with a thud outside her window. Again.

"I guess I'm done falling," he said, rubbing his head.

She sighed. "Finally."