Those Things He Does.

He does it.
But what was the cause? The smile? The eyes? The expression?
All of them.
It hits me suddenly.
Recall. Say you're a book-lover, and you walk into a bookstore. You're in your favourite part of the store, the shelf you love the most. You look at it. Your see it lined with books you love the most in the world. You look at their jazzy covers, their catchy titles. You smile. Involuntarily, widening your eyes for a better view.
Then, you walk into Archies or Hallmark. You see an array of objects, all colourful, glittering and gleaming. The colours dance in front of your eyes, inviting. You stare at them and you almost shield your eyes, narrowing them, lest the colours hurt them.
Its like that. Only both. I don't know whether to narrow or widen. I want to look at him, stare at him, to absorb...but I'm afraid. Afraid that the beauty would be so powerful, that it might damage them. My eyes.

When do you get goosebumps? When you're shivering, either from the cold or fear. But there is another kind of goosebumps. The wrong-place, wrong-time kind. The what-are-you-doing-here-kind.
When the temperature is very high. When its so hot, that you can't feel the sweat. Its a part of you already. Its hot beyond a limit. And the goosebumps come. They're not supposed to be here, but they are. And it feels good. The goosebumps make you giddy. You want to laugh.
There are goosebumps on your arm because of the heat.
Weird?
Thats how it is. Its not supposed to be like it is. Its unexpected, uncalled for. Against the laws. Wrong place, wrong time. Wrong. But it feels good. Its not supposed to happen, but when it does, you don't care anymore.

Those Things He Does.

* This was written when the author was, as defined medically, not completely mentally stable. Only temporarily. Also, err...I have a tendency to exaggerate. So its not to be taken very seriously.