Puzzled

I’m puzzled why I take the small road past your office everyday. I don’t need to be on it or either of the roads it connects. I don’t even need to be on that side of town. Sometimes, I go miles out of my way just to drive past your office, and then what? Do I honestly have the reasonable hope, if hope can be reasonable, of seeing you?

It is just to see you. It is to have every molecule in my body gasp and leap at the slightest glimpse of you. It is to hope to hear the violins again when I sit across from you and watch the fireworks explode around your eyes.