She is startled to see me in the room. Unfortunately, when my physical presence is felt without warning, I have realised that it scares more than it impresses. However, I wait for her still. I do not have that strong of a romantic affection for her, the one where she fills my dreams and my thoughts endlessly, where the longing for someone would spin blissful imaginary tales for the future. An innocent crush would be a more appropriate word, where you like someone, but that liking stops at a certain boundary. For the liking I do have for her is because I feel comfortable around her, a comfort characterised by the need to talk about what is going on in each other’s life. She is like an open book from which the words flow freely and who still possess the empty pages on which I can unashamedly write my own story. I can imagine taking her to bed, but that imagination lacks emotion. Instead, I would rather take her for a walk, to that pretty pastry shop I saw the other day, to the wine