He.

She walked with a walk that seemed to suggest she wanted to approach life in a much faster manner than her short little legs would let her. She seemed to lean too far forward, to look too earnest. And yet not earnest enough... her eyes wandered across the clouds and the trees and all the other people in an aimless manner.
Did she even know it herself? He never could tell.
He loved to watch her.
The way she squidged up her nose and her upper lip followed. The way the skin around her eyes moved like a marionette under the twitching guidance of her eyebrows.
Her eyes smirked, as if she knew exactly how endearing that face was, even in all its ridiculousness.
He wished he could call her his.
Wished he could walk authoritatively up
slip his hand around hers
and let her lean into him.
He wished he could whisper the words he had already thought a million times.
And see her smile.

If only he really thought that way. If only he were really watching that closely.


This is the dream I was having when I was rudely awakened this morning.
It was not a good morning.

I think when I someday write my book, I'm going to call it A Thousand Meaningless Epiphanies.
What do you think?