Just one glance. Just one glance will do... as he walks down the aisle to an empty seat. An empty seat. Always in front of me and never behind.

Though, most mornings, I'm glad. Glad I'm invisible. Glad he doesn't catch me watching. Wouldn't that be silly... to be caught watching? I'm glad. I'm glad I'm invisible. On most days, anyway.

As I watch, silently admiring the lines of his neck, the curvy ridges of his ear, the shape of his shoulders, I find myself wondering. What would his copper hair feel like between my fingers? Like silk ribbons? Like the down of birds?

I want to tell him, one day:

I like you.

Even though I don't know your name.

Even though we've never exchanged a word or a look.

I like you.

One day, I will tell him. One day... for sure.