I always feel like such an idiot when it comes to romance. Such a stumbling, bumbling fool. And it’s hard, because I don’t know what I am anymore, what we are, what this is. I only know the way you whispered my name, the way the shadows danced across your half-lit face. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, cupped your hand beneath my chin. The way you leaned in to kiss me. Slow and cautious, but so quiet, so steady, like this was it, like this was the only chance we had, this was the only chance we’d get. I remember the way my hands shook, wouldn’t stop shaking, how all I could think was how the stars look different here than they do back home. You smiled at me, and I held my breath to let the moment settle into place. And then your mouth was on mine and I could feel your pulse, I could taste your lips – sweet and slow and soft, almost poetic in all their furrowed perfection. And then you were gone. Like smoke and ghost. And now here I am waiting. For something wild, for something effervescent, for something fiery in all its breathlessness. I have never felt this way. I have never felt this way about a person. But when I see you, when my eyes meet yours, the ocean seems small, the sky seems close, and the universe is no longer infinite. For that moment, it’s just you, me, and the unending yearning that lingers between us. But I will wait for you. I will always wait for you.