Sitting there, in that dim lit cafe, I could see his beauty. Before I could even see his face, I could see his eyes, and on that bitter cold winter day, I felt their warmth. You know, I've seen his face many times before, he is no stranger. He was my slow dance in a dark room, my loudness in a library, my words on a piece of paper, and he is one of my sources of joy in this life I live.

By Chloe Elizabeth