10

I think I might have fallen.

Yes.

In love, I mean. With you, I mean.

With the curve of your lips when they stretch to a smile. With your laugh and your voice when you call my name. 

With your blond hair and light skin and the way your ideas make no sense at all or the way they make after all. 

But I am on the other side of the window, looking from outside to inside with my face pressed to the glass and i wish you'd notice

or put flowers to your hair even once

9

a moment of clearness, only dark behind the glass of the library door. I'm going out, entering the outside world.

The door swings to close and there it is, a second of snowing inside. White against dark - but my world mixing with the other.

what number is this even supposed to be

I was sitting by an table in a house of an old childhood friend yesterday. 

We were in a hurry, almost late from a hobby that we have been attending since we were around ten years old, her mother was making us toast while she was changing her clothes in a room next to the kitchen and I couldn't do anything but smile.

Her home was practically a second home to me when I was younger and even though her house has changed place (twice) during the last few years the place is somehow more a safe-place than my own home is.

We were in a hurry, she was eating her toast with big bites and arguing a bit with her mother and I was smiling and swallowing down a laugh. Because it was the way everything was supposed to be.