Her brush danced lightly against the canvas as colors and ink swirled accordingly to the soft thin stains of pencil. Her eyes sparked with passion and determination, not letting any kinds of distraction getting into her. She didn’t even know how long I have watched her paint and I bet she doesn’t even know I’m watching. Sometimes she leaned a little to the back to see the picture from a far, and some other times she stain her brush in a little puddle of dark blue, another time purple or maybe white. It’s beautiful the way she paints, her fingers, her eyes, her brush, just amazing. I’d sit here all day if I could, just watching her paint and don’t even ask about her pieces. Her artworks are amazing. I have always admired them, and in series of opportunities I found myself purchasing a few of her pieces.

I hung them on the wall atop of my bed, above the fireplace, on the wall of the staircase and the wall of the beside my door. So every time I’m home, her painting would be the first thing I see and the last thing I see before I fell asleep. I’d buy all her paintings if I could, but I shouldn’t be selfish, right? The world should be amazed the way I am.

Everything about her is just, astonishing. Her paintings, her way of painting them, her face whenever she got a little paint on her cheeks. Oh, how I wish I could be there and wipe the stains off of her flawless little face. I wanna caress every single curve of her face. Her eyes, her nose, her wonderful beautiful lips. She’s just, perfect. Everything about her, perfect.

In my mind, I pictured thousands of scenarios on introducing myself to her, asking her out, what if she said yes, what if she said no, what’s gonna happen after, what’s our first kiss gonna feel like. All the kinds of possibilities, but none have I tried. I suppose I could introduce myself as I purchased her paintings, but too bad she was selling it through a person who runs these kinds of painting gigs. So even though I bought her paintings, I have never talked to her.

She doesn’t really know me, I don’t know her either. Gah, we live across each other and not once for six months we exchanged hellos. This is driving me mad. This girl is driving me mad. I tried memorizing her at any chance, that at night, I laid awake staring at the ceiling with a mental picture of her face planted there.

Once, I saw her paint on the porch – which is the usual place she painted her works – while I was returning from the grocery store. I was making a rather fuss over my groceries causing her to look at my way. I tried so hard not to make a fool of myself but I keep looking at her and coincidentally locking eyes with her. She smiled at me, while waving her magic brush, unknowing she made me falling for her.

I suppose it isn’t love when you have never talk to them before, but what I feel is so much stronger than “I like you”, I said that to lots of girls and trust me, it isn’t even close to describing what I feel for this girl. She’s amazing, she’s the reason why I do my works on my front porch too. I took my laptop outside, my tinkering models, everything. In fact, if I could bring out my whole office here, I would but that would make me the creepiest guy on earth. Gah, if only I could talk to her. It’s just that every time I tried to talk to her, I chickened out. I feel so stupid, so intimidated by this incredible woman, and I’ve been with many women before and none affects me the way she does.

We haven’t know each other yet. Does it sound crazy to you?

One drippy afternoon, I was sipping my coffee with a great book in my hand, where across the road she scribbled on her canvas. I stole so many glances at her way for about thirty minutes and the worst part is, these things are wired to me now, no longer voluntary movement. I decided to stop being a creep and actually talk to her. I quietly put my book down, anxiously sipping my coffee, running lines in my head like, “hello, I’m Dan. What’s your name?” or “Hi, we live across each other and I’ve never catch your name” and things like that. I ran my fingers to my hair, making sure nothing is out of place, then gently stood. I debated quite awhile to whether put my hands in my pockets while working my way down the stairs and decided to pluck out two or three stems of roses I planted. Thank goodness I’m a good gardener cause these roses looked beautiful. I made my way the her house, exiting my turf and opening her fence. She stared at me in wonder, like what’s with this guy who lived across the road for six whole months of no contact and now decided to show up with three handpicked roses. I decided negative comments against my own action right now isn’t helping, so I shooed of the bad thoughts as I climb her stairs.

“Hi, these are for you. I’m Dan, I live there” I hand her the flowers as my other hand point out the house I live in. She said nothing, she just looked at me puzzled while shaking his head. Of course! What a lame thing to say. I’m getting more and more anxious.

“You don’t like these? I grew them myself” Great. I grew them myself? great. I hope she won’t shoo me away with a broom on one hand. What am I supposed to say now? “You don’t like ’em? I have other kinds of flowers if you want.” She still responded the same way. I guess she just didn’t like me.

“Okay, great. I am Dan. Nice meeting you, I’m gonna go back home, to where I live, across the road, there. Just call me if you need me. Bye” WHAT AN AWKWARD FAREWELL, but something you’ll never expect happened. Just as I turned my back, she pulled my shirt. She pointed her throat and her ears while shaking her head with her gorgeous sparky eyes looking deeply at mine. Still, I’m confused and she could see it because she took down her painting, and fixed a new blank canvas. Then she took a small brush and wrote I can’t hear or speak. Now, everything falls into place! She was trying to tell me her throat and ears didn’t work. Then she wrote again, My name is Enid. She smiled proudly while pointing her name. Gah, her smile is so beautiful, I couldn’t help but smile as well.

I took another brush with another color, and scribbled, Dan. She tried to say it, but it sound awkward and somehow I found myself in love with the way she pronounced my name. I wrote again, I live across you, but we’ve never spoke to each other.

She replied straightforwardly, Yeah, I noticed you like sitting outside. Inside I was screaming, “to see you paint!”, Enid. Instead of replying that, I wrote I noticed you like to paint on your porch too. I looked at her reading my sentence and she blushed, she blushed! Haha!

It was because I want you to notice me. She blushed again! while shyly looking away. Now I feel hot on my cheeks too. This is amazing! I don’t think this day could get any better.


We continued “talking” like that until there were no space to write, that we moved our conversation to her phone. We typed out our sentences in the memo. Later, I went home smiling the biggest smile I could ever smile with Enid on my mind. Enid, even her name sound extraordinarily beautiful. We talked and laughed so much. In fact I have never talked and laughed so much before.

It turned out, the day she moved in, she saw me sitting on the porch sipping my coffee, reading my book the way I did this afternoon, that she thought I liked reading on the porch. That’s why she painted outside all the time. She also has been meaning to talk to me for a long time, but she doesn’t know how. She’s afraid her inability to speak is going to ruin the chance of getting to know me forever. Oh, this sweet girl. I love her. If only I knew, I’d come after her even sooner. All these times I thought I’d never had a chance to be with her and now she’s telling me she used to think the same way. She has never seen me stealing glances at her just as I have never seen her stealing glances at me, but inside we were both craving for each others names.

She was amazing these past six months, but now she’s beyond incredible. I am more in love with her now, than ever.


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