"I think I finally get it."

"Get what?" There was something about the look in his eyes, the confidence, the surety, that had me swallowing hard.

"You." And as he smiled, it was almost smug. "I get you, Oz. You're a little, Aren't you?"

If only I had known at the time just how much those few little words were going to change my life.

The Little Of Oz Series

having all the required or desirable elements, qualities, or characteristics; as good as it is possible to be.

The dictionary definition of the word implied that for a situation to be perfect, it had to be as good as it was, or could possibly get.

I had never fucking liked books. Not really, so it gave the smallest of pleasure in realising that the good 'ole Oxford was wrong.

Our situation, Oz's and mine, it wasn't as good as it was going to get. It was far from it; our apartment was painfully bare, and what little furniture we did have was either secondhand, gifted or things we had brought from our old homes with us.

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