My dear

Lemme paint a little picture for you. We're in a studio apartment, the kind with high ceilings and an extremely beautiful view of the city. Its about half past 8 in the evening and we're done with dinner. Dinner that you cooked. We're just sitting on the couch looking at each other, just looking.

We're content. We're in the moment. We have so much to say to each other but we both feel it can wait. And then this song comes on the radio. Neither of us remember touching the damn thing, but you're all good-natured about it. (While I, on the other hand, am a teeny bit pissed that we've stopped looking at each other.)

I let go of my thoughts and listen to the music and it starts to get to me. Not the lyrics, just the rhythm and how it feels so..right. You take my hand and pull me up to dance. I tell you that I'm not really good at dancing but you smile and lead anyway. Your smile. You don't know how many hearts you can melt with that weapon of yours.

Well, my thoughts end just about there. Maybe you might want to finish painting the picture?