It was just another Sunday. The sky was blue, the air was still and the people were happy. She felt nothing but happiness and joy. Wondering if maybe she'd gone mad, smiling like that. The sun never felt warmer and her soul, never lighter. She couldn't possibly name it. She never felt more content in her life and she loved the feeling. Love. Maybe that was it. Maybe love really did exist and so did all the Shakespeare she'd read. She knew his mere presence made her feel complete. And she knew that he was it. It was him she couldn't stop thinking about. She kept denying it, but she knew. She was in love. She almost died of joy then.