He could not read.

It was a problem, a barrier of sorts. It was often easy to overlook, to forget, until he met her. When she entered his life he realized the barrier was a wall, strong and reinforced, separating him from her. It allowed him to get close enough to see her heart, her soul, to revel in the beauty of it. However, he could not touch her, reach her, or be fully with her.

Although it was the only barrier that separated them, it was a mountain.

He found her particularly beautiful when she read. He loved the way her eyes lit up as that ran restlessly through the pages of a book, embracing the words like long lost friends. He loved the way she bit her lip when the story made her nervous, the way she blushed as the characters fell in love, the way she thoughtfully twirled a strand of hair when she was fully absorbed in the story. The stories she read seeped into her soul. The words stole her away from him, and he wished more than anything that he could read so he could go with her.

But he could not read.

So he could not.