t seems almost like a dream when I finally do see her, I'm pushing my way past a knot of people, when the smoke clears and I see her, standing by herself, waiting in line. I feel anxious, I nearly run to her, almost like if I don't she'll disappear back into the crowd and the smoke will fold me up again. I knew she was here- I only had to find her. She looks up and sees me- I must be grinning like an idiot. All I can think to say is, "I'm so glad you made it".

She smiles. A little nervously, unsure quite what to make of my eagerness. We walk back inside and I pretend we're really on a date. I'm the gentleman, moving people out of the way for her, pushing through the crowd for her. I defend her, with a scathing glare, bestowed on a drunk guy that looks at her and slurs the flattering-except-from- someone-like-him question, "are you a model?". We join my friend, me beaming like I've brought back a trophy, she looking a little more reserved, probably not sure of what to make of me, him with the knowing wink in his eye as if to say "not a date? yeah right". The band starts and we dance. I dance like a maniac, hope I'm not scaring her off. I try to stay near her. The crowd is thick, moshing, close together and pushing off each other. I see her as she drifts away from me and try to fight my way through the thick mat of dancers to her, once again afraid of losing her to the crowd. She dances with a kind of freedom, a kind of making her own path. I am even more smitten. I think she looks at me while I'm dancing, at least once or twice, I wonder what she thinks. We say goodnight as friends. Or even a little less, I feel like there is something there, between us now. It is inchoate, raw, does she feel it too? What will it be? How will it unfold itself or will it just remain untouched until it dries up and disappears?

The sight of her drives me to distraction. I feel the thud of my own heart when she is near, or across the room stretching, or when I think about the graceful curve of her neck. How can I have worked beside this beautiful creature for two entire years without noticing how incredibly enticing she is? How could I have let eight seasons pass and not once thought... how can a partly cloudy, mid-February, with a chance of afternoon clearing, Portland day seem like the most promise filled day that has existed in my twenty-six years? I can't stop my brain from thinking of her, I don't want to really. Everything seems to be alive in the late winter-world, and saying "take a chance". There are signs everywhere, pointing with large question marks to the future. We talk, between work, after work, until I don't realize what time it is and desperately hope that she doesn't either. When songs come on the radio they are sung to her and I, and I wonder, half embarrassed, if she realizes this and thinks it's as odd as I do. The questions are big, but boil down to the same one, "does she feel the same way?"- how could she not. Unless she and I exist in alternate worlds and just seem to be interacting, glancing off of each other. Its not so far fetched, I toss and turn at night and other times, back and forth, "she loves me."- toss- "she loves me not"- turn. Does she know that I look at her, longingly almost , and turn quickly away when she looks my way? Is she doing the same thing and we are just narrowly missing each other's gazes, back and forth, back and forth? What should I do? Should I speak and disturb the balance of the known universe, risking our familiarity? Should I bite my tongue and not speak, just bottle up this feeling and try to put my hand over the cracks that I think must be shining the brightest? In this I am caught, a sublime dilemma in front of me- two roads diverging, both well traveled, but not by me.

Does she notice when I look at her? We meet eyes more than once and I feel electrified, almost a physical shock that makes me look away with its power. How can she not feel that? I intentionally let my long hair out of its pony tail in an adolescent attempt at flirting, she looks away in seeming disinterest. A few times, I feel something and turn to see her watching me, it can't be a coincidence, can it? We talk more, but there is a nervous energy to our conversations. It is coming from the thing between us which is growing, but into what I have no idea. The energy envelops me, following me throughout my day. I can't escape it, the raw aliveness of it frightens me a little. When she is not here I think of her.