And as he left, he thought only of her. He thought of the thousands of times he had the chance to say what he wanted to say to her. He thought of all those times he swore she looked as if all she wanted was a kiss, from him. He thought of the times he froze up in mid-conversation because he made her laugh or smile and couldn’t help but to stare at her simple beauty, forgetting the next words he wished would come out. Lastly, he thought about the night before, when he did tell her how he felt, how he’s felt forever, how he may possibly always feel, and he thought of the kiss that came with those words. He boarded the bus, sitting down, succumb with thoughts of her.