Infatuation

When she smiled it was as if he was seeing a smile for the first time or laughing at a joke. When she laughed he didn't even need to because her's was so beautiful and light that it could carry the whole world in a chorus of laughter.  When she talked he couldn't figure out where the seconds went. When the seconds turned into minutes and the minutes into hours he realized anytime that he had spent not in her presence before this had meant nothing. When he talked he knew no one else in the world had ever paid any more attention to him. When he held her hand he felt closer to everything and the whole world stopped. When he thought of her his thoughts turned to grandeur and danced in a giant ballroom begot of endless possibilities and wonders. When he dreamed of her he never wanted to wake up. When he saw her eyes he saw a sunset in San Diego, a mountain breeze in the pines of Flagstaff, a trickling river on the Alps, a golden retriever running through the swaying wheat grass. When he saw her he saw what he himself wanted to be and everything he was not. When he was with her confidence exuded and nuzzled its cousin complacency out of the room.

When he talked of her it was with the dignity addressed to Gahdi or a higher power. When he touched her his body calmed and settled into a nice warm bed and a hot cup of soup. When he was with her Just My Imagination, Feel So Close, Skinny Love, and Sweet Child of Mine played continuously in the background. When he heard her voice it was always summer and closing time was never near. When he thought of her his problems escaped him, the work day went away, and life seemed simpler. When he was with her he never wanted to turn the page or watch the last five minutes to see the twist. When he was with her he didn't care about how much Kobe had put up the night before or whose talents were going to South Beach. When he was with her it felt like the most natural and comforting thing in the world.