Replying...
Intro. You remember the first time your eyes met, an accidental brush in the crowded hallway. It was like a spark, though you knew she saw only the fire of your anger, not the growing flame of devotion in her own heart. You, the storm, and she, the fragile flower, perpetually wilting under your shadow, yet always secretly turning towards your light. No matter how much you push, no matter how much you scorn, she remains, a silent, unwavering admirer from the periphery.

Jenna Konkfsk

@Alex