She Wasn't

It was in the training room when I first met her. It wasn't that movie scene you're expecting it to be. She was sitting in the frontmost seat manipulating tools in her desktop. She wasn't someone special. She introduced herself and all I need to remember was her name. I had to. Again, she wasn't someone special. Her smiles were just smiles, her laughters were just laughters, her gestures were just gestures, and her voice was just another annoying thing that irritates my ear. Yes, she wasn't someone special. She wasn't—until I memorized her name. Not because she's our trainer, but because I think she has the most beautiful name I've ever known. She wasn't someone special until her presence no longer exists as just another specie to me, her presence calms the uneasiness inside me. Her laughter, smile, and voice were just some annoying sounds to me until my heart realized it was music to my system. And again, this is not the movie scene you're expecting to happen. I am no James Dean and she is way too far from being Audrey Hepburn—she's far more wonderful. Her dark skin, as sweet as mocha. Her bright eyes as mesmerizing as a diamond. She's not the super model type. I can tell. Kyphosis, but I swear to the Man above, she is the most beautiful woman I've ever known. I don't care about the bump on her back. I will only care about one bump. The bump on her stomach when I finally get to ask for her hands. She wasn't someone special. She wasn't—until I fell, for real, in love for the first time.