Sadness, The girl and the Athaeneum, Letter to an imagined friend, Tetris for your girlfriend, mood lighting.

There is a girl here that I like who goes everyday to the Athaeneum. It's a short walk. Out of Keeney you take a left on Benevolent, walk a block down to Benefit, and then take a right straight on to the Athaeneum.

When I see her and she smiles at me, I have dreams that we are in love, and that she only smiles that way at me. I dream that we are both in the Athaeneum on a windy autumn afternoon. I go to find a book in the high stacks in the old second story and find her nestled in a corner reading a poem that I am extremely knowledgable about. I take the poem from her and read it beautifully, eliciting smiles and winks and love eyes that are only meant for me. The librarian comes upstairs to quiet me, because I have grown loud and impassioned. She has no choice but to hurry us both from the building. I make apologies about my behavior, as my library love laughes and laughes again. She is uncontrollable. We walk down the narrow Providence streets arm-in-arm like postcards of students that Hallmark deseminates for aging academics. We are perfect, and the day neither ends nor begins.

It exists only as the palpable reality of imagined conciousness that is available to those who are in love.