| It used to be considered romantic, to stand sighing across the street from the object of your true love. To follow her to work, wanting desperately to talk to her but being too shy. Praying for that chance moment when you would have an excuse to talk to her.
Romantic notes slipped under her door...flattering emails sent to her personal address...anonymous marriage proposals sent with a dozen red roses...cash deposits in her bank account. Why do these things frighten her so?
She doesn't even know me. How can she have judged me already? | 
