Beautiful

She's beautiful.

It's so simple, watching her stare out at the rain hitting the window. I can hear her music blasting from here. She thinks she has awful taste, but I think it's lovely, and important.

It's everything from the bend of her arm supporting her neck, the way her legs cross, her careful, tight hold on her bag-- she's telling stories without even moving. The wonders of watching a writer live are limitless.

She sniffs lightly-- allergies. I wish I could make them all go away.

She's suddenly turning, turning towards me, lifting her chin from her hand and tilting her head towards me.

For a moment I'm lost, and then she smiles.

Without even thinking, I smile back. How could I not?

She's beautiful.

(Inspired by how I feel watching my girlfriend! <3)