Across the Universe

He wanted to draw her. He was sure I'd be a masterpiece; not because of his own talent but because any capture of her Likeliness, whether it be a single pen stroke of the side of her check drawn by the least experienced of artists or a full acrylic portrait by DaVinci himself. She was a living masterpiece. She was more than that; she was the universe, she was everything that has even been beautiful, every laugh, every glance, every touch. She was the Universe and to be in her presence was a miracle. To be with her was a freshly cut diamond in the sunlight, that refracts and projects the colors of the rainbow, constantly in motion, dancing along nearby surfaces like a perfectly choreographed ballet. A sight to behold.

He was everything she had ever dreamed of. Someone to make her feel like she wasn't trapped. Without responsibility. He made her feel like time stood still, though their time together was limited. He inspired her, for the first time in a long time she could play piano with meaning; something she thought had been lost long ago. He showed her new places, new experiences, taught her how life could be outside of her family's bubble.

He was free, a broke artist working his way through school. She was a privileged American girl whose every move was carefully articulated by her parents. He was her parallel who lived across the universe.