It’s when I’m not looking for him that he appears. It never seems to fail. I was walking home from the meeting and I heard his voice, I couldn’t help but look for him – it’s been years since I’ve heard his voice and it’s still like a symphony exploding in me.

Then I spotted him, his closely shaved head and short go-t lost to the majesty of his sparkling blue eyes.

His eyes were the first thing I ever noticed about him, the first thing that made my heart skip beats – there were more reasons later, but his eyes always targeted my heart.

He’s sitting there, casually having dinner with friends or colleagues talking about god knows what, I didn’t bother to try to eavesdrop I just wanted to hear the notes cascading out of his mouth one more time. It wouldn’t matter what he said, just to hear him speak was a joy.

It’s a sappy, horrid way to write how he makes me feel. There may be no way to properly clarify it.

He saw me also, his eyes sparkling one more time at me, his smile grew. That’s almost enough to satisfy my thirst for him, almost. Some times I wonder if that craving will ever go away, will it ever cease to have this effect on me?