On occasion, just for a fleeting instant, your mind begins to conjure up evanescent ideations — and you’re just not sure. It’s a blur. You’re confused, trepid and, dare I say it, even vaguely excited. You’re understandably hesitant to interpret, and labour to go about your day quelling the doubt.
And then, the resident coquette walks in. You know, the one who’s just-unattainable, but is surprisingly ever present. Involuntarily, you’re beginning to leer, and soon, recurrently softly sighing. In yearning.
There is no confusion anymore. It’s crystal clear.
And you’re almost relieved.