I have a customer at work who is turning 91 on Valentines day. Her name is Ann, she doesn't believe in using cellphones, and she has the clearest blue eyes I think I've ever seen. I'm not sure why little details like this stick with me, a sticky note of sort attached to my brain and heart. Sometimes I'm scared of these little details, of learning too much about a person. It scares me to know that these details that make me so fond of a person will be the same details to sting my heart the most if ever the day comes in which that person is no longer around. little ghosts found everywhere, little ghosts that remind me when I'm trying to forget, little ghosts that effortlessly and casually whisper in my ear and tug at my heart. We've been learning more about each other lately. Slowly, gradually, quite deliberately, now that I think of it, we've been taking our time, careful not to reveal too much, but anxious, anxious to learn as much about each other as we can. The thought of everything I've learned about you so far makes my heart swell. This, too, terrifies me. Yet I want more of you. These things can be difficult to make sense of, and there is this part of me that doesn't wish to understand. Devendra Banhart's lyrics echo in the open spaces between my bones and blood vessels, insisting, pleading for you to *please destroy me, please destroy me, please destroy me