September 23, 2009
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She thought he was beautiful.
He thought she was perfect.
She scrutinised herself when he was with other girls;
She was the only one he saw.
He was the last thing on her mind at night.
He woke with an image of her smile.
He would listen out for her in crowds.
She would strain to hear his name.
He could never draw his eyes away;
She could never look.
He would share his umbrella to keep her from getting wet;
She always hoped for rain.
He once wrote her a letter to express his admiration;
She couldn’t read his writing.

She promised herself that she would tell him.
He decided it was time to come clean.

She would hide her face when he came near,
And he would brush her hair back for her.
He would study the soft oval of her countenance
And she would lift her chin and look into his eyes.
And he would smile
And all barriers would fall between them
And all doubt would evaporate for a single, perfect moment.

And he would know she loved him.
And she would know he was hers.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, and looked down at his untied laces. She began to fidget with her somewhat stubby nails.

He said, “The weather’s pretty good today.”
She Agreed.

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