It started with the way she cupped my cheek in her hand and how she never adressed me with my real name. I would lie awake at night with thoughts of her laugh dancing through my head. When I would stroll alongside, my boyish heart would compose lengthy poems dedicated to the way her eyelashes stretched to the stars and beyond. Never-the-less, I did not fail to realize that she was only human and that she posessed flaws like the rest of us. Actually, rather discouraging flaws. For instance, how her head was always in the clouds or her spontaneity. Sure, we all love the dreamers; the people who can pack a weekend bag and hop the first train to wherever, but what the stories don’t tell you is where your dreamer becomes a burden. Every important decision was left til it could burst and things were never definite. And she wasn’t very tidy. Her clothes lay in heaps, her furniture askew; everything was all out of wack. She was neurotic and compulsive. She organized her DVD’s first Alphabetically, next by genre and finally had a separate shelf for television series. What I was beginning to realize, however, was that despite all of the flaws and in spite of her qualities, I was falling in love with this girl. This time I wasn’t going to let love ruin this relationship. This time, I was going to let Jemima’s spontaneous little brain do all of loving. It was going to be a goddamn hard task.