HOME | DD

Description
I see her, just like every other time she is coloring.  This girl has pervaded my thoughts, and refuses to take leave.  Each and every day her pull on me grows, and my resistance deteriorates.  She doesn't know me, and I wouldn't, shouldn't know her.  But I do, all because of one chance encounter when I was walking my dog, Rubin.
She had been out on her yard, simply standing in the grass with bare feet.  Upon seeing Rubin she asked if she could pet him.  I am a kind person and agreed, but when she came near I became transfixed.  Staring at her stroke Rubin's fur so gently combined with her scent, strawberries, began to make me feel very uncomfortable.  I knew what was coming, or in this case what would be coming, and quickly walked off, the girl waving goodbye to Rubin and I.
That happened nine weeks ago, and I haven't had another encounter with her since.  Well at least not a legal encounter.  As the weeks passed I couldn't get her out of my head.  Her hair was so fine, even more golden than that of angels.  And her skin looked unbelievably smooth, like alabaster.  Not to mention the stroking, that image was never far from my mind.
I would go on jogs with my camera, hoping to have the chance to take a quick freeze frame of my fixation.  I managed to get a few, but not nearly as high quality as the one's I take while sitting on the tree limb outside her window.  I would sit in my den, staring at those photographs until the sun had set, risen, and then set again.  Telling myself with each picture that I was wrong, that this was against my morals.  Until I found the one shot that made me realize that she must want what I do as well.  She is staring right at the camera with the sultriest look one could imagine a girl of her maturity to have.  Upon seeing that I made a resolve to speak with, just speak with her.  Perhaps if I say just the right thing she will come back to my home with me, so that no one will judge our mutual feelings.   After all I can't imagine what her parents would say if they knew of our intentions once together.
So now I can see her from my perch, I see her father tucking her in after reading Goodnight Moon to her.  I glance at my watch and see the time, eight thirty-three.  I will have to wait an hour, but I don't mind.  Watching her sleep is nothing new to me, and I find it a rather enjoyable pastime.
Once it is nine thirty-three exactly I climb to her window, which is unlocked as always.  Slinking into the opening I feel scratchy pink curtains on my cheek.  I look around, aided by the pink heart nightlight in the corner of the room.  Seeing that I realize that what we can share will be infinitely brighter than that heart's measly forty-five watt bulb.  I hear her breathing, and my pulse quickens.  This is the moment I have waited nine weeks for.
I approach her purple bedspread and duck beneath the canopy.  My calloused hand brushes her soft cheek.  Eyes fluttering and mouth mumbling I know she is about to wake.  When she does her eyes go wide at first, and I can tell she is about to shout.  Swiftly clamping my palm over her lips I shush her. She stills, and her small hand pushes my larger one off her face so that she can nod.  I knew what would make her want to follow me back to my abode, and begin with that.
"Can you help me find my puppy, he is lost by my house."

Description
I see her, just like every other time she is coloring.  This girl has pervaded my thoughts, and refuses to take leave.  Each and every day her pull on me grows, and my resistance deteriorates.  She doesn't know me, and I wouldn't, shouldn't know her.  But I do, all because of one chance encounter when I was walking my dog, Rubin.
She had been out on her yard, simply standing in the grass with bare feet.  Upon seeing Rubin she asked if she could pet him.  I am a kind person and agreed, but when she came near I became transfixed.  Staring at her stroke Rubin's fur so gently combined with her scent, strawberries, began to make me feel very uncomfortable.  I knew what was coming, or in this case what would be coming, and quickly walked off, the girl waving goodbye to Rubin and I.
That happened nine weeks ago, and I haven't had another encounter with her since.  Well at least not a legal encounter.  As the weeks passed I couldn't get her out of my head.  Her hair was so fine, even more golden than that of angels.  And her skin looked unbelievably smooth, like alabaster.  Not to mention the stroking, that image was never far from my mind.
I would go on jogs with my camera, hoping to have the chance to take a quick freeze frame of my fixation.  I managed to get a few, but not nearly as high quality as the one's I take while sitting on the tree limb outside her window.  I would sit in my den, staring at those photographs until the sun had set, risen, and then set again.  Telling myself with each picture that I was wrong, that this was against my morals.  Until I found the one shot that made me realize that she must want what I do as well.  She is staring right at the camera with the sultriest look one could imagine a girl of her maturity to have.  Upon seeing that I made a resolve to speak with, just speak with her.  Perhaps if I say just the right thing she will come back to my home with me, so that no one will judge our mutual feelings.   After all I can't imagine what her parents would say if they knew of our intentions once together.
So now I can see her from my perch, I see her father tucking her in after reading Goodnight Moon to her.  I glance at my watch and see the time, eight thirty-three.  I will have to wait an hour, but I don't mind.  Watching her sleep is nothing new to me, and I find it a rather enjoyable pastime.
Once it is nine thirty-three exactly I climb to her window, which is unlocked as always.  Slinking into the opening I feel scratchy pink curtains on my cheek.  I look around, aided by the pink heart nightlight in the corner of the room.  Seeing that I realize that what we can share will be infinitely brighter than that heart's measly forty-five watt bulb.  I hear her breathing, and my pulse quickens.  This is the moment I have waited nine weeks for.
I approach her purple bedspread and duck beneath the canopy.  My calloused hand brushes her soft cheek.  Eyes fluttering and mouth mumbling I know she is about to wake.  When she does her eyes go wide at first, and I can tell she is about to shout.  Swiftly clamping my palm over her lips I shush her. She stills, and her small hand pushes my larger one off her face so that she can nod.  I knew what would make her want to follow me back to my abode, and begin with that.
"Can you help me find my puppy, he is lost by my house."