His words made her think of waves, the soft edges white with foam that captured all that it touched, drawing the happy victim into its vast belly. If she stood near him long enough, his waves washed over her feet, threatening to knock her off balance with the pull of his charisma. Everyone loves the ocean. And she was no exception. She couldn’t help but want to swim in him, envelope herself so deeply in him so as to experience a sweet drowning. But she dared not tell him. She was sure that her heart was leaking from her eyes, but she played the charade that nothing was amiss. He’d never know that in her dreams she woke next to him every morning, made him pancakes with strawberries laced on top, poured him hot coffee fresh from the French press he would have bought for her on a whim to remind them of their trip to Italy earlier that year. He’d never hear her clumsily read to him from her section of the newspaper after he had delighted her in a monologue of stories from Iraq with such passion that she wished she was a soldier so that he’d speak of her….. He would never know that when she heard him speak she heard the poetry of a thousand singing seagulls over an endless sea on a lazy Sunday morning when the sun had just created a new day.
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