I sit four feet away from the most beautiful woman in the world, and yet we’re worlds apart.
To anyone else she’s probably just above average, but to me the sight of her makes my heart ache.
The table in front of me separates us, keeping our drinks in a convenient location and keeping me from reaching her and holding her.
She’s still trying to pick out a song to sing.
For some reason she thinks that she has to beat me in singing.
It shouldn’t be that difficult; my singing voice isn’t that good.
I don’t really care about the singing anyways; I just want to spend time with her.
I asked her if she wanted to do a duet, but she refused.
I wonder if she refused because she wants to win this competition she imagined up or if she refused because she didn’t want to sing something that had the potential for romantic implications.
It didn’t have to be that way; it could have just been a song that we sang together.
The most beautiful woman in the world sits across from me, still trying to pick out a song to sing.
By this time next week, I’ll be across the world and she’ll still be here – trying to pick out a duet.