She adored him from far away; the way you do stiffly, subtly and concealed. So inconspicuous, thought she, in order to shirk away from his inquisitive eyes. But his smile, seen from afar that is, was so pleasant and dangerously disarming. It was ridiculous--a criminal's game, enraptured with the safe confines of his jail cell as opposed to the consequences of choosing to face reality. No, thought she, a prisoner should much rather decide to stay indoors and locked up in his own fantasies rather than be vulnerable to even more pain and suffering.
All this from a smile of a ... "somewhat stranger", the word she would use to denote any sort of love interest. For although she was in a mild "trance", of which she hopes IS in fact love, she is unaware of just who that stranger is. Friend, a little likely. But acquaintance is more like it, for there's always a risk. Who is that person you are immediately attracted to? And why? One might deem such nuances as mere trivialities, but not she. Trivialities were easily considered troublesome.
She snuck one more glance, softly, at his eyes then sped away before he could possibly see her at all. And then she sunk against the wall, eyes, mouth, and heart drooping in relief and satisfaction to the floor. She made it in one piece, and she celebrated, and she cried. For once again, she didn't have the nerve to say anything. And she wept.
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