THE SECOND FRONT
Tired of this sunset;
Eloquent and proficient in his choice of words, polite and obsequious in nature, he very much impressed her Daddy. Her Daddy had always enjoyed his company, engaging in more-than-casual talk, getting furious about politics together, going wild during soccer matches. Intelligent boy he was, speaking his mind even about the most random things, in a very sophisticated arrangement of letters and words, almost like poetry. She used to listen, and listen, in awe of his gift of creating such impassioned talk. This queer attraction disturbed her somehow, in a good way.
She wondered why he chose her to be the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with. She was no where near as voluble as he was, a little childish at times, like a baby he used to describe. Sometimes she wondered if he made the right choice, because she definitely did. She was in love with him. He was so gentle. He caressed her soft hands on chilly nights, and drew her close to him when he sensed even the slightest bit of anxiety or despair in her wild eyes. She would steal glances of him for fun at times, despite actually being able to gaze into his eyes for as long as she wanted. This always made him laugh, because he'd always catch her looking. Everyday, they'd fall in love with each other all over again, with every lingering glance, every fleeting touch, every stolen kiss, every heartbeat skipped, every promise made, every tear dropped.
It was unexplainable, yet so undeniable.