Three

We are three. Three countries, three languages, three different hair colors. We meet everyday and when we don't we say "I haven't seen you in ages!".
I complain about them all the time. I talk about them behind their backs. They do the same. It's like a twisted swingers game, the three of us.
We share food, drinks, newspapers and magazines. Sometimes money. (All you really need in life, right?) We meet in the crossroad no matter what. We roll our eyes to each other all the time and sometimes some physical violence is involved.
One doesn’t let me eat sugar, the other doesn’t let me cross the street by myself.
We have this conversation over and over again. About where we want to go next, about the future, about jobs and lives and cities and beaches and travelling. We always look kind of sad at the end, but we repeat the conversation every week. After all, you should never give up on your "sailing boat".
We are so, so different. But they are the first people I look for when I enter a room.
They are a bit like family, I must say. The kind of family you hate and you love and you can't live without. The kind of family you can scream at every once in a while without meaning anything.
The three of us - the big helpless dreamers - are about to move in together. And whatever the house would be, I just know, it would be like home.