Will it be alright to bother you?

No?

Okay. I'll bother you, anyway.

She was extra beautiful today, you see. I still wonder how it was possible, even now; even a few hours back, as I watched her kick the ball towards my direction.

Pass!, I recall her saying. You can do it! You can do it, go! And so, receive the ball, I did. Kick the ball as hard as I can towards the goal, I did.

I did it.

I did it!

You did it! You were great back there! Man, she was so beautiful. She had her hair up in a ponytail today, with a few loose strands down, and I can still remember the way her sweat trickled down her neck. I wanted to hug her so badly.

But I didn't.

Man, I didn't.


She did.


She flashed a smile. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. (Have I told you this, by the way?)

Anyway, she flashed a smile, ran to me, and gave me the tightest hug. My hands sort of found their way to her back, and stayed there for a good minute. I love you! I wanted to say it then. Or maybe, I didn't. And I didn't say it. Because it was beautiful, that moment. It was beautiful, her scent; there was probably no other way to describe it. Everything about her was just painfully beautiful during that beautifully painful moment when I was at a complete loss for words in her arms.

My words would not come out beautifully, after all.

Or, even if they were to, they would not be as beautiful as she was during that very moment, that very moment when I had my hands on her back, just making count every second.