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This feeling that grips my chest and tightens it every time I think of her—much less look at her…
I don’t know what to call it. I’ve determined that it must be “love.” Something I never thought myself capable of feeling. I’m still not entirely sure I’m capable of it.
And there are so many definitions of it, depending upon who you ask. All I know is that I feel like I’ll die if I don’t see her every day, that I’d give my life to protect her.
I’m perfectly content to sit and watch her sleeping for hours.
I’ve got cameras rigged up all throughout her apartment. I have a tracking device on her phone. I frequently sneak into her apartment and read her diary, catching up on all the thoughts in my beautiful little Annie’s head.
That’s what I call her secretly.
My little Annie.
There’s nothing I’d rather read than her innermost thoughts. Some might call me breaking into her apartment, reading her diary, and keeping tabs on her everywhere she goes an invasion of privacy, but I can’t help it. Everything about her fascinates me.
I feel closer to her than anyone else on this entire planet.
And she doesn’t even know I exist.
I stroke my finger over her face on my phone screen where I have my live camera feed of her pulled up.
She’s curled up on her side, her hands in little balls under her chin as she slumbers peacefully.
Like a pretty little kitten.
When did I “meet” her?
It was monumental and yet it wasn’t. Nothing super big happened and yet it did. What I mean is there weren’t any extraordinary circumstances that led to our encounter.
I was just jogging through the park one day, doing my regular routine.
It was starting to rain. People were hauling ass to get back to their apartments, but I was enjoying my run.
A little rain never hurt me. In fact, I like it when it rains because then the park clears completely out. I get a sick sense of satisfaction at watching all the park-goers scurry away like mice seeking shelter.
I rounded the bend in the track, and there she was.
She was several feet up ahead just sitting on a park bench serenely.
Completely unbothered by the fact that she was getting drenched.
Her eyes were closed, her face slightly tilted up as if she welcomed the droplets on her face, the wet waves of hair plastered against her cheeks, neck, shoulders, and arms. The little gold dress she had on was plastered against her skin, wet against her creamy thighs that were glistening with water.
She looked peaceful and yet sad all at the same time. Something about the vision she presented wrapped its fingers around my neck, cutting off all my air. I couldn’t breathe there for a moment.
And for the first time in my life, I couldn’t move.
I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared at her.
I’d never seen anything more beautiful. And I’m not just talking about her physical beauty.
No, it was more than that.
It was her soul, her aura, her essence, whatever the fuck you want to call it.
It was breathtakingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful.
I don’t know how long she just sat there in her own little world, her eyes closed. I don’t know how long I stood there staring at her, but I eventually got my wits about me enough to move off to a line of trees where I could continue to watch her undetected.
