her vision is bleary and blurry. her heart wont stop racing at thoughts of him - the man from another world rediscovered and reentered into her present from her past. why? why now? they are both happy, arent they? him in his land of pantone colors and sneakers and designing and music and her in a constant cluster fuck of papers, research, presentations, wrap up reports and hollywood. they could be happy together but they are not. they are separated by oceans by thousands of miles by languages by culture by identity by strangeness. they dont know each other, but he is in her thoughts, in her heart and in everything it is that she does. he created a world of curiosity for her. a world of curiosity in the most innocent way possible - of dreams, of culture, of language, of beauty. he was the palette of purity and inspiration that cleansed and rejuvenated her after a year and change of abused infatuation. she gave herself to him in the purest way she knew how. in the most complete, absolute way. she trusted him and so, she gave herself to him. she would have waited for him too, but her impatience led her to fall for the first prince charming that came sauntering by with a flawless smile and sweet whispers of nothing. her impatience was always going to be her undoing. they had joked about it just weeks, days before but there it was in plain sight: her impatience swept her away and him away and their world away and now his thoughts are of another ‘her.’

but, her thoughts are still of him. this time, patient. waiting. willing.