She’s odd, shy and quiet, but her sparkling eyes always hint at mischief. One can’t help but wonder what she’s up to.
We enjoy long walks in the woods, share ice creams, talk about our jobs and families, and indulge in long conversations about fictional characters and worlds. She loves reading and never goes anywhere without a book.
We’ve been friends for three years, but today, finally, I’m going to confess that I want more. We’re meeting for a picnic by the river. It’s the perfect romantic set up. What am I so nervous about? We talk about everything, don’t we? I must be honest with her.
Wait, where is she? I don’t see her. Just an open book. Perhaps she went to look around.
As I wait, I pick up the book. It’s not one I’ve ever heard of. I start reading. There is something so familiar about it. Of course! It’s our story. I turn it to the page where it was left open. It’s about today’s picnic. I guess I am supposed to propose marriage and roll around in the grass making love.
I feel her hand on my shoulder. How is it that she always beats me to the punch? Perhaps she is a witch or a time-traveler. I turn a few more pages. They’re all blank, waiting to be filled.
I smile as I look in to those twinkling eyes. She’s no aberration, just the woman I’m head over heels in love with.