[rift] feels just like I'm falling for the first time
There are a lot of things Dan doesn't remember. He's missing entire years from his memory, but the one thing he never let go of - the one thing he just couldn't let himself forget - is how good it feels to be in love. It excites him, energizes him, inspires him; his greatest moments, even with their occasional catastrophic aftermaths, have been fueled by love. Theresa helped him keep his sanity intact through his last grueling year of doctoral study at Oxford, pushed him to finish his time machine; Charlotte gave him the confidence to save the day at the Tempest and the courage to stand his ground.
For all its terrifying prospects and possibilities, Dan has always very much been in love with the idea of love itself and continually finds himself in awe of what an effect it has on people. He thanks his lucky stars (sparse as they are) that his gift didn't come in the form of a passion for biochemistry; if he could unravel all the mysteries of falling in love, he's certain the word would lose all meaning.
So here he is, in his room, staring at his journal while his heart thump-thumps in his chest. The clock on his nightstand blinks from 3:23 to 3:24 AM and in that instant he picks up his pen, presses it to a clean sheet of paper, and scribbles the following in a note locked to Winny:
There's something waiting at the reception desk for you.
That something is a small bouquet of multicolored daisies tied with a yellow bow, because when Dan can't sleep, he looks through phone books for florists with 24-hour delivery service.
Okay, he doesn't really do that. This is his first time. It's not his first time doing something silly because of love, though, and he's sure it won't be his last.
For all its terrifying prospects and possibilities, Dan has always very much been in love with the idea of love itself and continually finds himself in awe of what an effect it has on people. He thanks his lucky stars (sparse as they are) that his gift didn't come in the form of a passion for biochemistry; if he could unravel all the mysteries of falling in love, he's certain the word would lose all meaning.
So here he is, in his room, staring at his journal while his heart thump-thumps in his chest. The clock on his nightstand blinks from 3:23 to 3:24 AM and in that instant he picks up his pen, presses it to a clean sheet of paper, and scribbles the following in a note locked to Winny:
There's something waiting at the reception desk for you.
That something is a small bouquet of multicolored daisies tied with a yellow bow, because when Dan can't sleep, he looks through phone books for florists with 24-hour delivery service.
Okay, he doesn't really do that. This is his first time. It's not his first time doing something silly because of love, though, and he's sure it won't be his last.