Tonight I’m going to leave my window open. Maybe she will float in on the breeze. Or maybe I will freeze to death first. 49 degrees and rain predicted. Maybe she’ll find me lying on my bed, cold, in damp sheets. She’ll lay her body across me. Line all her parts up with mine. I imagine there would be a height difference. Women always want a taller man, and I never see myself standing on my tip-toes to kiss a woman. Her body will breathe life into mine. The first forceful heartbeat, breaking through the death in my chest. My lungs filling up with their first air. Me, becoming aware of her. I have dreamed and dreamed of her and this moment. Now, here she is. Drifted in through the curtains. All the ideals I’ve developed about beauty and what I want from my lover, what I will give back, mulled over and run through my mind countless times. And now, here she is. She found me, by fate. Lying on top of me. I don’t care what she looks like, what she’s like, or how she found me. She’s just … here. All the romance drains from the picture in my head. How could it not now that we are both awake?