It was a quiet, rainy afternoon on the corner of West and Frederick. James Walter Lorraine sat in his bedroom watching the flashes of lighting illuminate his room like the flash of a camera, or a bulb when it shorts out after being lit. He brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried to think of something to pass the eternal confinement that was the rainy day. The fan blades moved like hypnotic dancers in the dim light. The cool breeze reminded him of when he first traveled to the beach. On that first day, he stepped out into the blazing sun, and yet the subtle complementary breeze aided his relaxation perfectly. Those days were of a better time, when life was sweet and innocent and free.

However today was not one of those days. In fact these past two years had been quite the letdown for him. His girlfriend, Natalia, had dumped him, everyone he had cared about had moved away, and his family had chosen to disown him. He wasn't a particularly bad person, he just had a knack for being disliked; he was a deep thinker and often talked too much or over analyzed things; people often said if he was in a pensive mood he could burn a hole it the ground. He often was emotional and quick to argue, but even quicker to apologize if he did something wrong. This absolutely horrid habit of apologizing came from his last girlfriend, who was just a "touch too sensitive."

This day was eating away at him in particular; each raindrop on the roof a gunshot in the battlefield of his mind. Every thunderclap was a cannon, every lightning flash, another man killed. His mind was a palace, and yet it was a single room, a place to organize his thoughts. Today was 1 year after she had left him, sad and alone on her back porch only two weeks before Christmas. He had already bought her a present and was planning to surprise her, and yet, on that day, she called it off. He had the depressing journey back to his house on his blue bike. It had never ceased to bring him happiness before, and yet the blue seemed to transform into a pool of sorrow and anxiety.

After he got back home, he tried to remain calm, but his stomach stomach grew a mind of its own. It was a surge of the worst energy; an internal atomic bomb rocked his world. He threw up and cried for 2 hours. When his family returned from their shopping, he hadn't fully cleaned up. He could never tell them what happened, but they knew without asking. They decided to take him out to eat the feast of the gods, pizza. He made it through one measly slice instead of his usual six. Afterwards, his family went to the drugstore next door, while he stood outside the family minivan in the 38 degree weather wearing nothing but shorts, a t-shirt, and flip flops. He did this in his mind, to alleviate his mental anguish. Not a single shiver did he allow to emanate from his body. he didn't dare feel like he should give Natalia any inkling of winning, whether or not she could see him.

After months of thinking and working, he tried to move past Natalia, getting with other girls, yet none of them stood up to Natalia. Caroline was too wild and crazy and tried to get him to do things, which by his definition were not proper at that time. Jordyn was only in it for the chase and ended up burning him. Madelyn had simply brushed him off and used her newly acquired boyfriend as a meat shield to guard from his advances. He had given up and had hurt himself over and over. He tried and tried to get it right, yet he always fell short. He was never the person he felt he could be, or even the person he should be.

However, one day, as he was walking through town considering why he was so despised by all that is sacred, he caught a glimpse of a girl walking into the local dance studio. Her beautiful blonde hair was tied up in a tight bun on the top of her head, and she wore simple, comfortable clothes for dance. Her body was well built; she didn't have the widest hips, but everything about her was perfectly proportioned. He barely caught a glint in her eye as she chatted with her friend on the way in. He thought she was a good looking girl, but he brushed off the notion (he felt inferior, and after past experiences, knew he didn't have a chance) and continued walking because he compared her looks to his. Now, he wasn't a bad looking guy by any means. He wasn't too athletic, but he had a muscular build, defined by his slightly "tree trunk" legs and his strong arms. His hair was shorter on the sides, but spiked up at the front, and he had a slightly squinting eyes when he smiled. His cheekbones were not terribly defined, but he thought they looked alright. Overall, he thought he was above average, but this girl, oh boy, this girl was beautiful. Jim didn't use this word lightly, but this girl fit any and every definition of beautiful. In fact, he wondered if he looked the word up in the dictionary, if he would find her picture. Still, he laughed it off and kept on walking.

Weeks went by without the girl passing through his mind. However, when he was out and about, he saw the same girl at the same dance studio. She still looked as good as ever to him, but she seemed even more perfect. He didn't think it was possible, but he decided to figure out who the mystery girl was. He fought within his mind what to say to the girl or how he would approach her. His mind ran through hundreds of different scenarios, but he always felt it would end in failure. His nervousness wouldn't allow him to approach her directly. However, his resolve allowed him to sneak in to hear her name; that was all he needed. He slipped into the dance studio and heard the instructor taking roll. When the list got to her name, his stomach fluttered as if filled with a thousand butterflies.