She walked confidently towards me, almost gliding above the cobblestone walkway. Chestnut hair that bounced off her shoulders with each step. Her pointed black shoes drummed the pavement in sync with my pulsating heart as she got closer. Her eyes, looking directly into mine—a blue so sharp they saw in me and past me. The warm sun from the early spring afternoon lit up her face as she finally arrived in front of me, a grand smile. “Hello.” The word softly sung from her lips in a Continental accent that was the last straw: Hook. Line. Sinker. Totally true story. Ten years ago this April 12.
Originally posted on The Good Men Project