She is lying next to me in bed. On her stomach. Shirtless.

I watch her shoulders rise and fall with each deep breath she takes, dreaming and recovering from the long night we have just spent together.

It is a cool summer evening and she has the silk sheets of my bed wrapped around her body to the waist. Her long brown hair is in knots on my pillow. It is messy and wild and free.

I've never seen a more beautiful image.

I sit up, take out a cigarette, and light it; not caring about the smoke that will fill the room. Just one won't kill us.

I'm in love with her, I think to myself as I exhale oceans of white smoke. It whirls around us but then ultimately vanishes in the moonlight streaming through the nearby window.

"I'm in love with her", I mutter to myself in disbelief. I take the cigarette from between my lips and hold it with two fingers. I gaze at it as I chuckle at the thought.

You're in love with her. The words repeat themselves in my head. Over and over and faster and faster they whirl around me until it's all one blur. White noise.

You're in love with her, it echos and screams. It's all I can hear all I can think all I can feel. My mind isn't ready for this kind of onslaught.

YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH HER

And with that, I take the burning cigarette and extinguish it on her bare spine.