"He is the sky and everything inbetween. From the music playing on your radio to the cigarette smoke that lingers in the air. So close you could hear him breathe, if only he would let you. Always ubiquitous, yet your fingers slip when trying to grab hold." --- A little Marie/Logan poem I conjured up.

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Do you know what it's like to feel so out of place that you've wasted down to nothing?

Sitting here at my desk, playing with the dogtags on my freezing cold neck, I can think of nothing but him. And in the end, it always seems to come back to him. I try, oh, you'll never know how hard I try to *not* have it come back to him. But it always does.

I deny to my friends that there's no sexual tension between us and there never was, but they know that I'm lying. A couple months ago Jubilee said something to me that I don't think I'll ever be able to forget...

Jubilee: "You know how you watch people, like when they're not looking, and you just watch their every move and the way that they breath, and the way that they position their hands?"

Me: "Yeah?"

Her: "*He watches you.*"

I replay that conversation with her in my head so many times that it becomes excessive.

But I can't help to wonder about it. And I can't help but to wonder what he's thinking when he looks me straight in the eyes and starts smiling. He's always smiled to me, especially in the car. When we're driving around on a warm spring evening and the windows are open, and the breeze coming in through the windows tickles our cheeks and he looks at me, and smiles. I just fall in love all over again.

Which reminds me of a particular night...

It was warm. Especially warm for March. The air had a carefree smell to it. He insisted on driving with the windows open even thought it wasn't quite that warm. And when I complained of being cold he turned on the heat - only he still left the window open. So I just smiled at him and shook my head while I held my hands out to the hot air blowing from the vents.

The lake slowly began to appear on my right as I looked out the window. Maybe it was the moment, or maybe my mind was making me see things, but the lake was a beautiful navy blue. And let me tell you, that lake is never blue. It's always been an ugly gray every time I've seen it. Whatever the case, the lake was BLUE. I marveled at its blueness until he spoke. "I drove this way because I love the view; it's a bitchin' view."

I looked out the windshield at the city. I had never thought about New York City as being pretty, but that night it was. The capital glowed with lights and every building looked like it walked out of a poster. The lake was luminous; reflecting the lights cast by the city. The Terrace jutted out into the water and looked perfect. For once it belonged. I never got use to driving into the city and seeing it - it was still too new for my liking. But that night it fit perfectly. Everything fit perfectly into place that night. And I turned to him and said, "You know, it really is beautiful." And it was. It really was.