Romance

It wasn't like today day began romantically. It began with my brisk and efficient preparations for class: the making of my tea, the finding of the proper books and the kissing of his cheek, which he returned with a smack to empty air in his sleepy oblivion. I messaged him later, about the weather, he replied about the laundry. Our day revolved around our own individual endeavors. But at three I was catching a bus home while he was catching another to campus, and they passed each other by the Oval.

I looked back in time to see him in the window--just a glimpse of his shoulder, his face, and I was filled with a great gasp of happiness. That second of eye contact reached across the rush of cars and asphalt and hoodies and Northface jackets in a confluence of our emotions, and held all the romance and happiness of the most passionate love affair. It wasn't butterflies or flutters in funny places, but peace, which is way more romantic than giddiness could ever be.