*It was the way he said my name,* I thought.

My hair flew wildly, trailing behind me as I whirled. The music pounded as I spun in circles, letting the music invade me, corner me. My eyes fluttered closed as I did a gypsy dance I'd learned in Greece when I was twenty. "Listen to the voice inside!" I sang along, the beat poured through my apartment, carrying my feet.

*It was the way he came when I needed him.*

"So what if he can't dance? His heart is kind and those big hands are soft. He speaks a language that can change what I believe. So - my friends don't think he's cool, he likes Coltrane, I like Tool. He wears leather patches on his tweed. Yeah-- but I know that he's deep. The company I keep, may not be the company I need...to pay attention, this is serendipity! The genius is in the mistake."

*It was the way he smiled,* I decided.

I spun around once more for good measure, and sank to the floor. Folding my legs, I dropped my hands to my knees and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my pounding heart.

*It was the way he wouldn't sacrifice what he knew had to be done.*

Reaching for my ever-present pen and pad, I kept my eyes closed as I scribbled keywords and phrases as they scrolled through my mind. It'd been a long time since I'd written a love poem and I felt a little silly, but I pushed on. The music played again, the song on repeat. When a song struck my creative nerve, I often listened to it until it was burned in my brain, drawing every inspirational bead I could from it. "The Voice Inside" was definitely one of those songs. "Every big decision is a trial by fire, wisdom acquired. Fuel my desire, ooh baby, my heart aspires to genius," I kept singing even as I scrawled blindly on the legal pad.

*It was the way he changed my mind without making me feel stupid.*

"Listen to that voice inside." A mental picture of Toby, sitting beside me on the steps at Georgetown, slips in between the words. I can't help smiling, praying silently for a sign. I wanted so badly to go for it, but what exactly was I going *for*? He didn't ask to be my escort to my party...but he did come out personally when they called to tell him I wasn't feeling well. He didn't offer to drive me home, but I was on his To Do list. I was sitting there, arguing with myself, something I didn't do often. I just listened to that inner voice and did what I wanted or what felt right, like I'd followed my heart about the land mines ban. Until he'd convinced me I was wrong. I sighed, an admiring smile adorning my face at the thought of his silver tongue. There's no bigger turn-on than a well-spoken man, especially one with such honest eyes as Toby's.

*It was the way he looked so relieved when I gave in that I could've kissed him.*

Lost in visions of him, my hand still scribbling madly, my eyes still closed, I dropped the pen when the phone rang. I threw myself back on the floor, reaching up to the end table now just above me. The receiver of the cordless fell out of my hand and hurtled toward my face. Ducking, I managed not to bean myself. Swiping the cordless off the floor, I hit the button, giggling and breathless.

"Tabatha?"

*It's the way he says my name.*

THE END