The first day that I saw her was a mediocre one. That is, until I laid eyes on her. I wasn't quite sure of her name yet but I did know that she was infatuating. For those first few seconds, those seconds where her looks were still fresh in my mind, I stared intently, waiting for the jig to be up. I was waiting to wake from the presumed dream that I was caught in. But it wasn't a dream at all. In fact, it was much better than that. Before me stood the most beautiful woman that I'd ever seen. She was a few inches shorter than me, probably 5'4, and her hair was this auburn brown that shone in the light. It was riddled with highlights, both red and blonde, that sparkled as she made her way towards me. It took me a moment to make eye contact, scared of what she might read behind my stare. It was then that my breath left my body and I remained a lifeless husk of my former self.
Her eyes. Her uniquely grey eyes. They locked onto mine and I sensed my confidence retreating, crawling into a hole that it has always been quite familiar with. But I pulled it back out, hoping that if she spoke to me that I might be able to find the words. She was still moving toward me and it seemed for a moment that she would phase right through me but she stopped. I gawked at the voluptuous figure before me and attempted to absorb every moment, quietly calculating in my mind, trying to predict what might happen next.
"Hi! My name's Harper."
She stood there, her hand outstretched, waiting for me to meet it with mine. Before I did, though, I noticed another woman standing behind her, as if trailing her. Although I had little interest in meeting this other person, I definitely felt some curiosity, wondering how she fits into the puzzle of that gorgeous woman's life.
"Hi. I'm Nelson."
I met her hand and immediately felt an intense electricity. I was horrifically afraid to meet her gaze and I didn't, but it left me wondering how she felt as well. Did she sense the electricity? Or was it just my imagination, wanting there to be something more?
It didn't take but a few more words before she moved on. I wasn't really surprised, considering that we were at a cocktail mixer for work. But as I watched her walk away, her sidekick in stride, I secretly wished for her to come back. I wanted more than anything for her to turn around and speak more words. Her voice had this lilted quality that sang into my ears like early-morning birds. I wanted more than anything for her to return to her position in front of me and to tell me more about herself. I wanted to know everything that had shaped her into the person that she is now. I wanted to know every experience that she'd ever had. Every heartbreaking moment. Every satisfyingly grand triumph.
But until the next time that we met, I had but one thing. Her name. Harper. And I'd never heard such a fitting name in my life. Her personality, her grace. It represented the name. It embodied the name. And at that specific moment in time, I could trace back my obsession. After that day, my life changed completely. I had never felt like that before but this is what I'm like now. Harper Torres is my obsession. She is the reason that I live and the reason that I would die. And she will be mine.
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