I sit down on the floor with my mug of coffee, and so does she.

Right in front of me.

She smiles playfully, and jesus, she looks so beautiful when she does that. I can't stop myself staring at her wavy, soft brown hair and her mesmerizing, dark eyes. The freckles she's painted over her make-up look so innocent and cute.

We start talking, and we laugh so much together. Its obvious we have the same sense of humor, we understand each other even through the various gazes and the silent moments. She's exactly the type of girlfriend I wish I had.

We share everything. It's comfortable even to sing, to throw a bad joke, and I don't have to explain everything for her to understand. She just does.

After just talking for hours, I finally reach out my hand to see if I can touch her. She does likewise, and our fingertips meet.

It's cold.

Of course it's cold.

It's just a panel of glass, coating a reflective surface beneath it.