What happens is: Time is cyclical and she's wide-eyed and fifteen again. His smile warms the pale little hairs on her arms like sunlight and she wants to dance in it, yell at the top of her lungs, laugh at anything and everything. Her eyes crinkle, her fingers twitch, her mouth curls and she tingles - she's filled, filled with so much, where to put it? how to overflow gracefully? She hides it in boxes, she whispers it to her charcoals: "keep my secret, keep my secret"; but it bounces off the green walls like his booming laugh and she is blinded by the warmth it spreads. (mineminefinallymine)

Then: Her muscles ease, the worry seeps from her skin and pools around her feet. She jumps over it and into his arms.

Now: Her world is half cream and half him sipping hot chocolate and humming to himself. She's afraid to sink deeper into the couch, to hear him but not see the soft curl of hair just behind his ear, tinted blue from the TV static, the one that always wraps itself around her finger when they kiss, the one she thinks is the only ring she'll ever need.

'Fin': As she is drifting off to sleep to wake up in uncharted familiar rooms, she lets out a small and content sigh and wraps herself up in him.