Love, Theoretically

by Ali Hazelwood

We’re supposed to be on a tour of the department. I feel like he’s taking a tour of me.

Have I been doing it all wrong? Maybe instead of getting people to think that I’m worth their time, I should stop giving a shit about them? Hmm. Food for thought.

“You’re so wise. And full of layers. Like . . .” “An onion?” “Like a yogurt with the fruit on the bottom.”

He studies my face for several moments, like he cannot stop on the cover or the first page, like he needs to read the whole book every time.

I’m a little breathless. I still get knocked off my feet when I see him after a while. I wonder if it’ll ever end. I wonder if all these beautiful, momentous things I feel for him will ever settle into something ordinary. I can’t imagine they will.