The first time he lay eyes on her, his perception of life was changed. She danced by, like a vision in her pale attire, her golden hair trailing in the wind like ribbons of sunlight. If a goddess were among us, it was she. She had the fairest of eyes, and the most delicate of faces. When she spoke, even the wind paused to listen. Her being was pure, and good, that he could tell. Though he watched her with intense admiration, she did not see him, for he was below her; a mere stable boy under her nobility. Although he was translucent to her, his mind was fixated on the possibility, dwelling on the fantasies of her being his. From that day onwards, he watched her contently, waiting for her to notice his burning desires as they radiated from his eyes. He hoped, if she just looked his way, just looked into his eyes, something inside would snap, and she would be thrust into a world of endless torture as he had. He made himself present at all opportunities, standing in full view, directly ahead, wherever it was possible to make himself visible without attracting unwanted attention from the other members of her class. Yet each time, her permeable gaze would skim over him, and never would she notice.
His attempts gradually faltered, along with his hopes and fantasies. Until he realised. She was gazing back. There, amongst the crowd, she was watching. His stare darted to hers. This was happening? She was looking at him? He would turn and check to see if he was mistaking her gaze for something behind him, but he was already lost in her eyes. The two gazed longingly for minutes, until she blushed, giggled angelically, and shifted away. Before she disappeared from sight, she turned to face him one last time, with a look of slight upset in her face. And then she was gone.
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