The prettiest girl in the world is in front of me in line at the Barnes and Noble. Her eyes are a coal black starlit night, contained in the soft folds of a milky coffee meringue. A Roman nose on a petit face and I finally understand ancient beauty, the kind preserved in marble.
Her terrifying glance is a spotlight I want to catch or hide from in its shadow.
I imagine my life with her, laughing together, brushing the snow from her black coat and a tear from her eye, as she’s called to the register and out of my life forever pulled away in the river of holiday checkouts.