I’m not a believer in love at first sight. It’s not that I am unromantic. I feel love, I’ve been in love, but I am not one to fall in love like it is some act of emotional clumsiness. Instead, I am more likely to find myself in love. It’s like traveling by train. You lay down in one city and wake up in another. It’s not a surprise… but there you are; surrounded by the natural consequence of the journey.

Chevon came into my well-ordered life, threw me from this train into the waters of her desire. She was beautiful; the kind of beauty that grew in intensity the longer you knew her. It was a beauty that felt intended only for you. Only you could see it. Only you could truly appreciate it. When she pointed this beauty in your direction it was like sunshine when she looked away, it was a storm.

I was lost within her, drowning in the deep valleys of wanting. I searched for a grip, grasped for stability within the maelstrom. Each time I rose from beneath the waves I reached for her and gasped for breath. It was death-defying, life-affirming, exhausting and exhilarating.

When I saw the other hand reach from the crests towards her, I panicked. Fighting the current, I swam towards the hand. I knew this desperation. I understood how it felt. I could not just stand by and watch.

Plunging into the sea, I searched and found this kindred soul. Without a second thought, I tied all my inhibitions, my planning, my calm Sundays, and my balanced pragmatic plans for love on his shoulders. He sank into the depths, alone and confused.

When I broke the surface, Chevon reached for me, and I reached back, lighter, more buoyant, more alive than ever. She was dangerous. She was unpredictable. And I had fallen for her. Fallen in love, and there was no room for anybody else.