"She burns like the sun, and I can’t look away…"
How apt. My favorite Muse song coming up on random just as she slid across my scrupulously chosen line of vision.
I don’t know how long I’ve loved her, or how long she’s known enough about me to not care. It seems, I’m sure, much longer than it really is.
I surrendered to inevitability and let my eyes cling to her; every curve, every line of her face and body had carved an irrevocable impression on my retinas into which only she fit perfectly. I felt my mouth beginning to water.
Matt Bellamy crooned a warning: "She’ll burn our horizons, make no mistake."
I knew. I knew it was a mistake. But I also knew I was going to make it anyway.
Just then, her intensely green eyes favored me with a cursory glance. And that was when my ever honest mp3 player pulled up Supermassive Black Hole.