The pale rays of the afternoon sun glint off the stunning white of his smile. My breath catches in my lungs, and my palms begin to sweat. How can this be happening? This doesn't happen to me, this never happens to me. I must be dreaming. There is no plausible reason for this angel to be talking to me. The slight lilt of his voice pulling me closer to him, inhaling the scent of his worn jacket. It's too much, too sudden, too real. I can't deal with something like this, this happiness...it's reaching for me and dragging me in, deeper than I ever planned to go. But there is no backing out now. No way that I could forget the grace of his walk or the agility of his thin body. No way out. And I'm quite all right with that.
He questions me. Studying my face. What is he looking for? What does he see in the depth of my hazel eyes? Can he see the secrets I try so hard to protect, the insecurity that rules my days? What does he see in the lines etched across my young face. The lines of worry, of fright, of sadness. Does he know what they mean? Does he understand how much I have been through, and what a miracle it is that I am still trying so hard to survive?
Maybe one day he will know. He will understand why it is so hard for me to trust. So difficult to be willing to fall and not know if anyone will catch me. Maybe one day he will be the one to catch me.
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