You stared at me. Not the bad kind of stare that makes me want to turn my face. But the good kind that makes me want to fall over in happiness because it tickles me inside.

You looked at me the way people write about in romance novels. It was like you wish you knew my mind more than you knew my eyes but you didn't know how to put that into words.

So you left slowly. Stealing, peaking, glanced at me across the room. Taking your time walking to the door as if some invisible force wanted you to stay but you couldn't. Both of us were at a loss for words, as silence screamed out her mockery of a story about two people too quiet to be heard in a world of noise.