Outside there is nothing but the empty silhouettes of unknown masses againt the dark grey, cloudy sky. Everything in and around the house is still aside from one small room in which sits a quiet pair. Enjoying eachother's company, they sit on opposite ends of a couch that lie in the middle of this room. With nothing else to say, he sits looking at her from the corner of his eye, contemplating the evening with a subtle smile on his face. He looks at the clock to see that it is three o'clock in the morning. Time now only serves as an indication of how much longer he has to be with her. He wants time to stand still. The silence is almost deafening as they glance at eachother, exchanging sincere smiles. They both want to talk but are truly lost in this genuine, true moment. He comes back to his thoughts. He thinks of how much he has. Never has he felt so much while doing so little. The feeling that he has is actual and wholehearted. He wants to tell her so much. He wants to give her everthing he has to offer, but everything else seems to be holding him back. He wants to give her a field of tulips. He wants to take her to every beautiful place he's seen in a postcard. He wants the world to know he's the most lucky person in the world because he is in her presence. He wants to write Shakespeare. He wants her. As this tidal wave of thoughts hit his mind, his heart seems to move his body forward as he finds his face no more than six inches from hers. Her eyes look into his with eagerness. She knows what he's doning and suddenly, he does too. He presses against her soft, sweet lips with a burst of amazement. He now understands every love song he's ever heard. He understands every day of spring. Understands every sunset. Every moment up to this.
