is going to be felled by stupid love. Or serious infatuation or like or whatever the beginning thing is before turning into the love.
I give myself stupid anxiety, especially when I think about that unavoidable day in the future when I just know this is going to happen. Nevermind that I don’t really know if it’s going to happen, but I can feel it’s going to happen, which makes me believe it will.
She says she’s met her Super Boy. When I picture her hero, I see a thick, short, muscle-bound character in a blue and red cape and tights get-up. Not to be taken seriously. Then I notice that she’s giddy, excited and I feel her effervescence: lots of sparkling bubbles, so much foam spilling over. And I get it. That’s how her face used to light up when she thought about me. Used to. This is a strange moment of realization.
Shock: wow, this is that day.
Sadness: I feel a definitive shift; her heart is pounding at another door.
Oh, you actually really like this guy.
Yeah, I told you he’s my Super Boy.