her across the room

As the whole world rushed around us, she sat there—just two feet away from me. Her eyes stayed fixed on her phone, never once looking up. She was with her friends. One of them whispered something in her ear, and she blushed—her cheeks turning a soft, radiant red.

Her nose ring gleamed, catching the light just right. Her eyes sparkled through her transparent glasses. And like cherries on top of a fruitcake, the tiny acne marks on her face made her resemble the moon—proof that even beauty has its own imperfections.

Her earphones matched her blue t-shirt—a Paris football team jersey. Her bag, too, was blue. Even her watch was blue. It was as if a piece of the sky had fallen to the earth and taken the form of her.

As I closed my eyes, I heard her voice—it was mesmerizing, and it blew me away. A cool breeze passed as she covered her nose to sneeze, and even that felt like perfection.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, revealing a beauty mole placed just above her lips—perfectly, poetically.

She was just... perfect.

And then, as if fate aligned every star in the universe, I found myself sitting beside her. My heart ached to say everything I just described—but my lips remained still, silent.