conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a story about Autumn, Finny, Library with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this story could be 'If He Had Been with Me'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the first four paragraphs for this story.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: If He Had Been with Me
  But there is Jamie now, and he wants to buy a house and raise children with me. He says I'm perfect. He says I'm all he wants. I can't disappoint him.
  Aunt Angelina unlocks the door to her classroom and we step inside. I realize now why she wanted me and not my mother. The room is even more disorganized and lively than Aunt Angelina's home. There is a half-finished mural on the wall that was a quarter-finished when we graduated four years ago. Prints from both famous and obscure artists line every other wall and cover the entire ceiling. The window ledges are lined with sculptures and various three-dimensional arts. On her desk is an asymmetrically shaped vase filled with flowers made of newspaper. I know from asking years ago that the newspaper is from the day Finny was born. On the wall behind her desk is the only framed art—a drawing we did together in third grade of a landscape littered with unicorns, soccer balls, explosions, and puppies.
  The soccer balls and explosions are much better drawn than the unicorns or puppies; Finny was always better at drawing than me. I loved art class anyway though. Every year, Aunt Angelina made her seating chart so that we sat together at the smallest table in the corner that was only big enough for two. Most of our other teachers thought Finny and I were too focused on each other; they wanted us to make other friends and often sat us on opposite sides of the room. It never worked.
  At the window, I can see the hill I used to sit on and read while Finny played kickball or soccer with the boys. I didn't mind that he played with them for that half hour; I always wanted to read at recess, and we would be together after school anyway.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me five more paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Finny is standing at the bottom of the stairs, his drink untouched in his hand. Sylvie is gone. I hear her laughter in the next room.
  I try to flip through all of my memories of us, trying to find a promise that hasn't been broken yet. There were a lot of promises; there isn't much left.
  He looks at me, not blinking, not moving. He does not blush. From the next room, Sylvie calls his name. He doesn't seem to hear. I swallow, trying to push my heart back out of my throat.
  He doesn't answer, but walks around the table and stands behind me. He lays his hands over mine. They are dry and warm. His hip presses against mine.
  We are in the courthouse downtown. I'm holding my new digital camera, a gift from my birthday. Angie's dress is short and white, with blue tights. She has a large white flower pinned in her hair. Her back is to me now, but when she turns in profile, I will see the barely discernible swell in her middle. Preppy Dave is in a gray suit. His hair is wetted down and combed so that the lines show. His mother is crying. I'm not sure if they're happy tears or not. I raise my camera and take another shot. Jamie leans over and looks at the screen. He nods in approval. All of us are sitting in one row on the left. On the other side, three of Preppy Dave's teammates sit. They are the only other young people here; the rest are parents and grandparents, a few aunts and uncles. There is one baby in the crowd and every few minutes, it mews and is shushed again.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: There is one baby in the crowd and every few minutes, it mews and is shushed again. Sylvie is gone. I hear her laughter in the next room.
  I try to flip through all of my memories of us, trying to find a promise that hasn't been broken yet. There were a lot of promises; there isn't much left.
  He looks at me, not blinking, not moving. He does not blush. From the next room, Sylvie calls his name. He doesn't seem to hear. I swallow, trying to push my heart back out of my throat.
  He doesn't answer, but walks around the table and stands behind me. He lays his hands over mine. They are dry and warm. His hip presses against mine.
  We are in the courthouse downtown. I'm holding my new digital camera, a gift from my birthday. Angie's dress is short and white, with blue tights. She has a large white flower pinned in her hair. Her back is to me now, but when she turns in profile, I will see the barely discernible swell in her middle. Preppy Dave is in a gray suit. His hair is wetted down and combed so that the lines show. His mother is crying. I'm not sure if they're happy tears or not. I raise my camera and take another shot. Jamie leans over and looks at the screen. He nods in approval. All of us are sitting in one row on the left. On the other side, three of Preppy Dave's teammates sit. They are the only other young people here; the rest are parents and grandparents, a few aunts and uncles.Finny is standing at the bottom of the stairs, his drink untouched in his hand.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Give me the last four paragraphs.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: And of course, it wouldn't be like having him back. Not really. But it would be better than not having him at all. I remember him holding Angie's baby at the hospital, the way he stared in wonder at that small face.
  And for the first time in years, I feel like things are going to turn out the way they were always meant to be.
  My husband, Robert, held my hand both literally and figuratively as I struggled to achieve this dream. Baby, we've done it.
  My in-laws, Jay and Tina Rosener, are two of the most loving and generous people I have ever met. Guys, I could not have done this without your support.