he remembered meeting her, always had this complex about a challenge, and she was that. the first time he saw her was in a group of people, but he couldn’t remember anything about anyone else, couldn’t remember what they were doing. she had this aura about her, this subtle balance of beauty and charisma. she wore a delicate little red sundress that hung loosely over her shoulders, had a subtle touch of makeup that made it look like she cared just enough, and eyes, eyes that danced around the table burning through strangers and friends in fleeting glimpses of intense, unapologetic contact. he wasn’t sure she noticed him then and that was ok. he had noticed her and would figure out a way to get to know those looks. he remembered telling a friend later that evening that she would love him one day, remembered the friend laughing. yet here she was, asleep on the couch as he wrote about the girl he was going to love someday, and did, and would. for a long time he tried to figure out why he was right that evening, how he knew. really he knew nothing, nothing but the consuming feeling that had filled him. the cute, irrational, immediate obsession. none of that lasted of course, the fleeting naivety of infatuation, but they did, somehow. lasted past and through learning about everything after the appearances, he still probably didn’t know what love was, but whatever he thought, he felt for her. the girl with the aura, the girl he wanted to know, the girl in the red sundress.