I'd stared at her face in a photograph for years. Now I can see her in person. Nothing about her tires me. I can find endless enjoyment out of watching her. Sometimes I wish I were invisible, so she wouldn't notice how long I stare. Her face and body, like some beautiful island I can explore. I am surely shipwrecked there. This is the place I do not want to be rescued from.

The rain was hitting my windshield and the glass was fogging up inside because I was thinking about how we had kissed earlier in the day. The kiss was one of those long slow deep kisses one hopes for just in case it's the last kiss they ever get. It's cold outside the car, but in my leather jacket it's hot and I'm wondering where I'll be in the summertime and if she'll be with me?