He sits in class, barely hearing the droning words from the teacher at the front of the room. He was smart, this one. He placed himself strategically in the back of the room, near a door for added air flow, but not far enough away to draw attention to his day dreaming. This class is required for him, but he does not use it for what the college says he should. Sitting in that sterile, white painted room, he lets his mind wander, but his thoughts always seem to go to her. She is the lodestone to his metallic thought. Attracting him with magnetic fastness.
His thoughts on her are non-typical, which isn't a surprise because he is non-typical himself. He acknowledges her physical beauty, smiling in his mind as he thinks that only a fool would not think her physically attractive. His thought instead turns inward on her, burrowing beyond her looks, into what she really is, and what she really is always stuns him when he thinks of her. The aspects of her outward appearance only give slight insight into who she really is. Her smile is glorious, a shining sun brightening his day, but what is behind that smile shines like a thousand suns and that is what he now sees whenever she smiles at him. He dives deeper into the canvas of her in his mind, falling for her over and over again. A helpless man trapped in a beautiful trap of shimmering brilliance and stunning depth.
With all this insight, albeit in his mind and maybe not reflecting the reality of who she really is, he often finds it difficult to understand why others do not see what he sees. He is not so lost as to think her perfect, only a fool would think another person perfect, but he does think highly of her. Sometimes he wants to shake people who know her, wildly asking how they don't see what he sees. He would never do that, of course, mostly because he would be committed, but in part because she is content in relative obscurity. He agrees, to a point, that her staying out of the lime-light is a good idea, but he also knows that is his selfish mind intruding into his analysis. If he is the only one who sees and knows the true her, he has something on the rest of the world. Something they may never fully understand.
The words "have a nice weekend" snap him back into reality. He looks up and at the people gathering their belongings. Not able to help it, a smile plays across his face, the people around him glaring at him, knowing that he is finding something funny at their expense. Gathering up his jacket in almost slow motion, he wonders when he will see her again, deep in his mind almost wishing he wont. He curses himself for thinking that, but he knows that seeing her always seems to turn the real, mundane world inside-out and into an explosion of sensation and brilliance, with her as the epicenter. He steps outside, the cool air whipping around him and a gentle mist spraying across his face. His eyes close as he takes it in, almost euphorically lost, still savoring the small traces of the still fading essence of the thought of her.
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