June 20, 2008
She was hauntingly beautiful in an unconventional way. Her dark eyes were a little too close together and her ears were just a little too large, but these conceived flaws complemented her in a way that was unexpected and yet asthetically pleasing. Shiny amber brown hair cascaded in waves down her back and when she smiled she displayed an enchantingly perfect row of blinding white teeth. Her lashes were long and curly, framing a pair of sparkling violet eyes that made one incapable of looking away when lucky enough to be noticed by this treasure.

It would be an understatement to admit that I was in love with her, however one would be correct in assuming that I had absolutely zero chance. She and I had only ever spoken to each other in passing; occasionally our paths would cross in the corridors and on those days when I was feeling particularly audacious, I chanced a hello with the ethereal beauty. Polite as she was, she always managed to glance my way for a few seconds before greeting me in that elegant voice of hers and continuing on her way without a second thought.

Her name was Eloise and she was an angel. Men have told women that before, I’m sure, maybe because for a fleeting second, in the flickering light of a candle they actually believed it, but Eloise did not need to rely on tricks of the light to catch a man’s attention. She was a true seraph that walked on Earth among us common men, breathing air that did not deserve to touch her lips and laying eyes on men who did not deserve to be looked at.

The clothes she wore made her appear as if she had just stepped off of a runway catwalk. She could have easily been a model if her intelligence had not led her to a more prestigious and worthy career path. Whites and blues were the colors of her choosing; they enhanced the color of her eyes until they were so bright that one could not bear to look into them, but this happenstance was obviously not self-imposed. She dressed as if she had blindly picked items from her dresser and thrown them on, creating the effect that her style was both effortless and at the same time meticulously thought-out.

When she stepped out of the elevator that morning, I swear that my heart skipped a beat. As I sat at my desk, unable to take my eyes off this gorgeous creature, I made a solemn vow to myself that this would be the day that I confessed my love to her. With shaking hands, I picked up my telephone and inquired with my secretary for her presence in my office. Within minutes, her slender body was edging its way through my door, tightly clutching a large stack of paperwork that was immediately deposited onto my desk. Pretending to be otherwise engaged in a highly enthralling progress report, I motioned for her to stay an extra second and used this time to furtively observe her.

She appeared more stunning to my eyes than she ever had before, making my planned dissertation almost an impossibility to utter aloud. I slowly brought my unworthy eyes up to her face, eagerly drinking in her presence.

After I muttered that this would only take a second, Eloise clasped her hands in thanks, and it was at that moment, 9:34 AM on a Tuesday, when my heart burst. There, glittering innocently, almost mockingly on her left hand, was an engagement ring. I have never loved a woman since.

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