1. The Start
I can remember when I first saw her. The dark, long hair - spiralling down to her shoulders; her dark, brown eyes - piercing all former thoughts of anything ever working between any other person and myself.
It was the first day of middle school when I first saw her; she was walking up to the school, her hair swaying everywhere, dancing in the breeze like a willow tree sways in the breeze, dancing like a light in a puddle on a cold, wet night.
I could feel love sweeping me off my feet like a wind sweeping leaves onto a path.