Dear Girl with the Fiery Red Hair at the Corner Table,

I'm writing this in hope that you'll see it one day. I'm not sure how to write this, but I'm going to wing it. I've been coming to this library for years to work on projects, but for the past year and a half I've been coming here for a very different reason. It's to see you. I hope I'm making that clear. I remember the first time I saw you. You were crying. You probably don't think that it was the best first impression, but you looked beautiful. The tears in your eyes made them shine like diamonds. I didn't understand why you were crying, but all I wanted to do was wrap you in my arms and make all your tears disappear. I didn't know why you were crying, but I saw that you were reading a book. I realized why when I finished that book a week later. I still wonder if you noticed.

Watching you read the first time made me want to watch you read every second of every day. I love watching you read. I love the way your bold blue eyes scan the pages so quickly that I think you might miss something. You never do. I love your gorgeous laugh that echoes through the dull room that you easily light up. I love your dimples that you get when you smile so widely that I'm worried it hurts. I love watching you brush your stunning red hair from your face as you hunch even farther over your book. I really love your taste in books. I would know considering I've read everything you have. Only after you do. I wouldn't know what to pick. Thankfully, I have you to do that for me. I love that you have a new book every day. I love the new emotion you show while reading it even more. I love how sometimes you're smiling brightly and sometimes you're sobbing in the history corner.

The first time I saw you, I thought I was seeing a fiery angel. My whole life has been brighter since I saw you. The trees are greener. The flowers are more vibrant. The birds sing louder. And whenever I see red, I think of you.

Maybe one day I'll be able to actually tell you this. Maybe one day I'll even ask you what you're reading just so I can talk to you. Until then, I'll watch and read everything that you do. That way I'll have something to talk to you about when I muster up the courage to ask you what your name is.

Hopelessly in love,

Boy with the Blonde Hair Two Tables Away

P.S. I really hope I'm putting this in the right book. That would be awkward.