She met someone last spring. They reminded her of a feeling she’d yet to name. Once, when the breeze was warm and their eyes were bright, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. She adored them.

Sometimes, their hair fell like a halo on their neck. She would stare into their eyes and see how long it’d take her to find the summer Sunday sky. Everything felt far away, and she let herself float past the blue into the abyss. 

She had dreams that would trick her into thinking they loved her. Each time she’d sit, the morning wasted away, and she’d grasp frantically at the feeling of being requited. When she couldn’t take it, she’d shut her eyes tight and try to forget the way they lit up her memories.

She saw her life go by, too removed from herself to do anything but watch it unfold on a stage. When the lights went down, her very autonomy faded away. Whispers would drown every thought as the players became exactly who she wished they wouldn’t. She thought only they could reverse the time she lost in paralysis. Very suddenly, she felt strongly that she must press her fingertips against their cheekbones. 

When the new year came, she found a new sense of dull pain at the sight of flat blue skies. Desperation welled up inside her, but nothing could push her further. It was too familiar. She’d slip into the night and drive down the highways that haunted her memories. The wind from the cracked windows accompanied the melodies of women who sang through her speakers with cracks in their voices. The harmonies would make tears rush to her eyes, and she felt pitiful. Her losses were in the breaks and baseline. Roads once familiar to her she found foreign now, they spelled out their name. She’d have to wait for February snow to erase the ill-founded novelty. 

She’ll meet someone this spring. They’ll remind her of a feeling she’s yet to name. And when the breeze is warm, and their eyes are bright, she won’t help but smile to herself. She adores them.