Her dress spins lightly across the kitchen, humming softly, she drops a trickle of salt into the pan.

Her shirt is a 1970’s beauty. Colorful, light dances upon the silk pink of her cheeks.

A smile is such a joy when it is accompanied with the thought of someone close, dear, loved.

The hum flows to his ears and to his heart strings.

As a butterfly on a freshly rained leaf, he lays back and savors the voice of his beauty, his joy,
his sweetness.

Her sweetness could send him into a diabetic disease.

His intelligence finds her each and every time, true to admire, she can never get enough of him.

Does the rest around them matter? Oh but no, it does not.

Indeed, it does not.

She ruffles over to him, kisses his nose quickly, and runs away giggling girlishly.

Its these little things that she does that make him superbly adore her every particle.

She is the epitome of all his needs and wants.

Perfection wrapped in so many layers it is impossible to complete in one life.

They complete each other, she is like the melt to his chocolate.

The sharp to his cut, and the swipe to his slide.

She sways her hair back and forth, sunlight touching but only the tips of her brown hair, further detailing the pure excellence in which it sits.

His hands comes up her neck as she turns, her eyes glistening in front of him, she giggles and says
“you smell like tapioca pudding, dear”

Continuing to giggle, she continues preparing dinner with a slight dance in her walk.

He simply adores her.

Simply adores. 

- I have to wake up in X hours. I am so annoyed.

- I would smoke a cigarette, but then again, I haven’t smoked one in a while. Like a week.

- I can’t sleep, apparently neither can the neighbor.

- Cats, Teddy bears, who gives a fuck?

- 5 out of 8 pills lay on my desk, guess which kind. No, not vitamins.

- I should not be writing this late, go to bed, no, you go to bed!
(And then took place a violent frustrated imitation of hair-pulling scenario.)

- I like water, its the taste that messes with me. Damn confusing.

- Rolling your eyes is one of the minimal joys in life, its like fresh orange juice on a sweaty day.
Or maybe not.

- Comma, splice, my, ass.

- You know you are popular, when….nobody calls?

- Writing can be such a hassle at some times, but then again, who loves watching Six Feet Under more than I do aye?

- The fact that there were only seven dwarfs has always bothered me.

- I truly believe we will be intelligent beings when we know our lip is bleeding without having to touch it.

- A song called Gyspy Rain is not going to sooth my nerves, no matter how marvelous it is.

- Hmm. So. We have all this fucking technology yet the clinking of a keyboard can’t be eliminated? Or at least reduced? Come on.

- I math hate. No. Let me rephrase that. I hate math. 

- I would love to wipe dust, but this is just not time or place for that.

- Las Vegas sure is pretty at night, but I am not impressed with it in the day.

- I can’t stand myself, or this red lamp. They are both sucking the life out of me. Well, I suppose just the lamp, the likeliness of me sucking the life out of, well, me, is just not likely. Both the grammar and errors in these sentences delight me.

- I am quite sure, at some point most people feel the taste of blood in their mouths. Most of the time its ours. I suppose something like 99.9% of the time? Maybe less. I wouldn’t know.
I am not “most people”.

- Is it just me or is irony not a <insert bad word here> when it comes to not being tired, staying up, and twenty minutes before you should be waking up, the exhaustion gets to you, and you are sleepy?

- There is this CD, it says “Recorded in England”. I wish I was “Recorded in England”.

- There once was this girl in my 8th grade class, I really did think she would turn out to be beautiful, but then I met her years later, and she was uglier than I had imagined.

- Why the hell is “house” music called “techno” in the U.S? And what the hell is “house” anyway? Electronica has always seemed to suit my vocabulary anyway. I just learned the word last week.

- Doink.

- Why must my knuckles have wrinkles? Isn’t it enough that I must deal with some day looking like a pipe bag? Must I see it on my knuckles too?

- And then I flew to Amsterdam.

- Tyra Banks annoys the living beh-jee-zus out of me. So does spelling things out like you pronounce them.

- Traxdata is a CD Company, I suppose international, now that I brought them to the U.S and all.

- In spite of my rebellious ways, I still yield to pedestrians. That is until I take my drivers test again.

- Normally when you think Eastern Europe, you see dirty streets and heavy accented women. Why?

- I need a drink. Alcoholic preferably.

Till next time, my sweet petunia’s. 

Him: You’re kidding me right? You’re not actually going to buy that scarf, it has like a thousand colors.

Her: Yeah well, you know I like crazy shit. Besides, it goes with like twenty outfits of mine.

Him: Oh all right, you’ll be like my color bursting bag of skittles.

(He messes up her hair lightly.)

Her: OH look, now I look like a colored porcupine. Thanks.

Him: But you’re my porcupine right?

Her: Sure ( She pokes his stomach several times giggling. ) Spikes and all!

Him: Um. Ow. That hurt.

Her: Awww, really? Come here, let me kiss it so it feels better.

Him: Nope, sorry, I read somewhere colored porcupine are not healthy at all, especially for the heart.

Her: Hmm, well, I shall not contradict that, I mean look at you, your practically hyperventilating just looking at me. ( She says this in a very cocky tone. )

Him: Oh come here, you silly goose, just kiss me already.

Her: Oh alrightttt…

(They kiss between the left scarf display and the Calvin Klein make-up display to the right.)

Her: Tea, dear?

Him: Sex, dear?

Her: Im serious, chamomile? 

Him: Im serious too, bed?

(They both smile at each other and burst into laughter.)

Him & Her: Tea and Sex, dear?

(Both nodding their heads they leave the kitchen and escape to the bedroom.)

Her: Amore? I think I have to tell you something?

Him: Well what are ya waiting for? Spit it out.

Her: Well after many complicated calculations, and reducing, and adding, and multiplying, and subtracting I’ve found the the equation of you and me gives the definitive result of Love to the infinite power. Do you think I should do further calculations? Or just settle with the given result?

Him: You’re such a dork, you know that?

Her: Yeah, yeah, but you’re crazy about dorks so whoopi for me! Answer please?

Him: Well, I’m an english major, so you do the math.

Her: Although at many times it may seem as if I am a patient person, most of the time, I’m not.

Him: Its perfect, I would not contradict your calculations at all.

Her: Good. Because I freaking forgot the stove on. Shit.

Her: Why don’t you laugh at my jokes anymore? Do you like someone else?

Him: Why must you always assume all these crazy things?

Her: I don’t know! I just feel like we’re going too fast and it’s like I love you but I’m scared, what do you want me to do?!?!?!

Him: God, you’re so crazy, I don’t even know why I’m wasting my time.

Her: Oh now what did I do? Its all my fault now, isn’t that typical.

(He slams the door and leaves, lights a cigarette and shreds up a dry leaf from the street, furious of how stubborn she is.)

(She locks the door behind him,  lights a cigarette and shreds a napkin furious of how stubborn he is.)

They don’t speak for days.

Her smile seems to him divine, as she talks he watches her lips move as if perfection created them.

He cannot describe how much he feels like she is the one he wants to see every morning,and in that moment he simply realizes that she is the one, and it is enough.

It is these moments, that although we are alone, and not able to share them with someone that we find ourselves truly happy, to be able to realize that you are staring at the person you will forever hold in your arms is something that cannot be described, but must be savored completely.

It is that moment when they both argue like stupid children, and stop to smile at each other, knowing their silly arguments are not a match for the powerful feelings they have for each other.

It is that moment when they watch a movie, and when there is something sad, they take one and others hand and hold it, a small yet amazing gesture of affection and love.

It is for these moments that we live and breath. It is for these moments that we sacrifice time and time again, just to be able to relive them once more.

She truly believes she is in love, the kind of love where she just wants to run to a park, and carve their intials into a tree that will prosper for another hundred years. Because love has no limits you see, it runs through us like the tide to the shore, sometimes in retreat, but always coming back.

“Do you remember the day we met? That’s the day I’ll never forget.”

And she never will.

It was a dark night sky, and the city lights shined ever so brightly, it was supposed to be a typical date, but all the bars were full, so they walked, quite a lot, her high heels made her feet hurt, quite a lot.

They looked and looked for a place to have a drink, but it was as if God was saying:

“You two are not having a normal date, you are not just some normal couple.”

So finally they walked all the way to his apartment, where she smoked a ciggarette on the balcony, trying to stay far away from him, because she knew that if her lips touched his, her life would forever change.

He tried time and time again to kiss her, but she didnt want to, even before they met she had the strangest feeling that the man up above had sent her the love of her life, all she had to do was fall.

And fall she did, they made love that night, unplanned, but love, and they made love the next day, and they held each other, and kissed, and did everything she had dreamed of for so long.

Never will she forget those few days next to him, he wears the bracelet she gave him, and she wears the love he forever left in her heart.

Little do they know, how unique their love is.

Little do they know.