In that glimpse of a smile that she'd witnessed, chapters upon volumes were being written. An amalgamation of fiction, because it was in fact too good to be true, and a whirlwind of feelings.
The emotions she felt reminded her of a vintage washing machine sitting on a grassy lawn, twisting and turning and churning, beating away dull colors and bitter stains that tribulations have left on the t-shirt that was her life. A slap to her pink cheeks, shaking her senses. Or a light punch in the stomach that would awaken the butterflies that had been asleep for far too long.
She couldn't speak about it, not because she didn't want to, but because words would fail to describe the experience.
A smile: your smile. Confined to a several-hundred pixel dimensioned square, but screaming out at me and telling me everything I need to know about you.
It was polite and demure yet devilish, lifting your boyish face up ever so slightly and effortlessly giving you that heavenly glow that most people dream of achieving. I could've stared at it for hours, and at one point, I did. The gleam in your eyes, the contours of your skin, and the million things that could've been running through your head at that moment - I'd analyzed and thought about it all. Simply because I've never seen anything quite like it.
So how did you expect me to react with you standing there in the sweltering heat, with your ghetra billowing around your angelic face? You were right there, in front of me, like an Aurora Boreale radiating a symphony of colors on a calm horizon. Surreal. Did you really expect me to pull myself together?
I covered my eyes time and time again and tried my hardest to give off the impression that I didn't want you to go away. I didn't want you to go. In fact, I wanted to capture every detail of you in a jar and take it with me wherever I went.
There was just no way to describe it all. No words in the dictionary did your eyes justice; wide and wild like an innocent child's, pulling all of the sun's rays into a big beautiful twist and making it beam off of the surface of your pupils. Chocolate. Then hazel. Then honey, and then chocolate all over again. Your curled eyelashes fanned out perfectly, like synchronized swimmers or a line of military soldiers standing tall and ready to protect you.
If I could have taken a thousand pictures, I would've. But even then, the finest resolutions and sharpest lens wouldn't be able to replicate the divinity that is you.
