Tuesday, 25 February 2014
She knew before she ever even said the words, wrote it down or repeated it to another person. Probably before she even acknowledged it to herself. A look. An exchange of words. She had feelings for him long before he admitted his, or brushed her cheek or held her hand. Before the words fell from her bottom lip and hung in the air, clinging on to some forced, grasped sense of meaning. It felt right, it felt comfortable, it felt like it could potentially be everything she ever wanted.