Her name was Annie, and she was breathtaking.

It wasn't just that she was beautiful, though no doubt she was. Gorgeous
curves, hair that shone with rainbows in the light. It was her eyes, most of all.

Jade. Jade-green eyes, filled with hope and wonder and laughter, with that
same sense of desperation and loss and shame that I see in my own.

She wasn't just a girl, she was a universe of living, shining stars, casting beauty
and warmth everywhere she went. Holding on to her own despair as a cloak
against the world, yet shining all the brighter for it.

She was blind to her own beauty. Which is what made her so irresistibly
beautiful. I loved her on the spot.

I was hers from that moment. She was my elixir, letting me live forever,
existing in the universe we built together. Our conversations were my haven,
her understanding the nourishment I yearned for.

I remember the first time I kissed her. We were in her room. It was four in the
morning, and we were finally going to bed after hours of heartfelt revelations
as only we could have.

I stood in the dark after we turned off the lights and crept to her. I grasped
her hand and tried to utter the syllables I meant to say, the words that mattered.
I stuttered, I stopped, I tried to convey my my meaning.

And Annie, bless her, understood. She placed a cool finger on my lips.
"Shh," she breathed in my ear.

And her lips on mine, oh so soft and smooth. Her mouth on mine, her hand on my
face, so desperate and gentle, hungry and cautious, poetic and beautiful, strength
and feminine vulnerability conveyed better than a word could. The dangerous innocence
of two girls, hand in hand, sharing a love deeper than a first kiss. Bittersweet romance,
a tragedy and a comedy irrevocably intertwined.

Yes, her name was Annie, and she was breathtaking.


(A/N: This is a little oneshot. It's a lot of fact mixed with a lot of fiction and a lot of real people mixed up together with a dash of total nonsensicality (--Is that a word?). So everything isn't true, but some things are.)