It's like I can't get enough of just sitting around thinking about her: her ever-present deep but feminine laughter; the faint dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks and between her shoulder blades; how she loved to watch the sunset; the sound of her voice when she said I love you; how beautifully she played her violin. I know I'm obsessing in an entirely unhealthy way, but I have this fear that if I don't keep turning her over in my head, I'll forget. And forgetting scares the hell out of me.
