So she just stood there with her perfectly curly and messy hair, falling down in front of part of her face, perfectly falling over part of her face, but she didn’t care about her hair, about anything, she didn’t care. And neither did he, about his father, his grandmother, his failing social life, and as she stood there breathless barely moving, he saw every sway of her body, every crease on her skin, the freckles on her shoulders, and the mole on the back of her neck where he was knew an angel must have kissed her. Both standing oh so still waiting, the very best kind of waiting, no anticipation scraping its way into the back of their minds, no they both just felt content, oh so very content. In that waiting her knew, with every solid part of his brain and hearts agreeing, that he loved her, and he felt the weight on his shoulders lifted and he had no choice but to float, so he grabbed her hand and they raised each other up and through the now star filled ceiling. Then he blinked and took a step forward and he traced the outline of her lips with his, and he felt their lives touch. It was beautiful and so was she, and just as she had once been kissed by an angel that left a mark on the back of her neck, he had now been kissed by an angel too, and she left a mark on his heart. It was beautiful and so was she as the moon seeped in through the window lighting their faces locked in love and illuminating the room with the star filled ceiling.