It may just have been the way the shadows blended with tile. Or maybe even the surge within that comes often when I look at her but it happened again and I'm still looking for words to describe the feeling. If it were the chain jamming the derailleur, I'd say the feeling was Arrr-rr. If it were like the feeling when the blue gradient circle in Vista stalls, I'd say the feeling was FFFFUUUUUUUUUUU. If it were like the feeling when you feel trapped in your existence so you leave everything and everyone and go west, young man, and on your last night with your collegiate bambino you get caught on the phone with her I'd say the feeling was Mmmmm-m-m-m-m. But describing how I feel at those moments when I look her way and the aura surrounding me feels like Tinkerbell just touched you with her wand and those glitter colors spray down your body - well maybe I just did, a little.
She has changed me in a way reminiscent of when Jeremy transformed The Chief Blue Meanie in Yellow Submarine by "turn off what is sour into a flower and bloom". She ingested my sincerity and my worship of her to bloom this life into a spray of ghost orchids "not fleeting or out of reach". We are in season and our petals are springing towards the ripeness of Lorelai's retorts when her Mom comes out her ass. Send this via BedEx to the Monarch of the Glen, IOW, me.