I first saw her when I was looking out my apartment window. She was talking on her phone outside my building while reveling in the seldom warmth for this time of year. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. I knew she had to be mine. I went outside to try and talk to her but by the time I got out there, she was gone. It made sense that she left quickly; my building was a bleak and gloomy place, all gray brick and metal stairs that led up to the apartments. It smelled like mold and was unnaturally humid inside.  Someone as elegant as her didn’t belong anywhere near a place like that.

The next day I saw her again. She wasn’t on her phone this time but she had a large red bow that was keeping her silky hair in place. It was just as red as the lipstick on her beautiful smile. She looked even more radiant than yesterday. Before I had time to think about it I grabbed my phone and took a picture of her through my window. I glanced down at the picture I had taken and smiled. She’s perfect, I thought.

Every time I saw her I felt like I was in heaven. All things about her were absolutely amazing, but the most enrapturing thing about her was her smile. Her lips looked so soft and full. When she smiled it felt like nothing in the world could ever go wrong. One day she glanced at my apartment window for a second and smiled. Anyone else would claim that she was smiling because of a reason completely unrelated to me. But no, I knew she was smiling at me.

The days went on, and I still hadn't even talked to the girl with the goddess-like smile. I took a new picture of her every day and pretty soon I had a collection. I was sitting by my window, camera in hand, a smile on my face, waiting for her. I saw her and immediately my smile dropped. She was with someone. A man. They were holding hands. She was showing her smile to someone else. How dare she do this to me? This guy didn’t love her like I did, I would do anything for her! I have countless pictures of her! I would give my life for her! But she clearly didn’t care. I felt an uncontrollable surge of outrage and started smashing what little I had in my already barren apartment. Just then, I made up my mind about how to approach her for the first time. 

The next day I wasn’t in my apartment. I was in the revolting place the landlords called a lobby that seemed to attract the dead bugs that littered the floor of the building. I had my phone in hand. When I saw her approaching I momentarily forgot all about my anger. She was wearing a yellow sundress that looked absolutely alluring on her. It’s pathetic really, that the mere sight of her could quell my vexation this much. But that calmness quickly ceased when my mind gave me an alarming wake up call and reminded me that she was a traitor.  I ran outside and started yelling. “How could you have done this to me!?” The woman looked confused. “I think you have the wrong person. Sorry.” she replied. 

I scoffed and pulled up all the pictures I had of her on my phone. Her eyes widened and her face lost all color. “H-how did you get those?” she screamed, loudly. Too loudly. Someone was going to hear and I could tell she was getting ready to scream for help. Within a single moment I allowed myself to think of the life we could have together if she could just stop being so difficult. I would burn the entire world, myself included, if it was what she wanted. An idea struck me and acting quickly, I hit her, knocking her out. I looked around wildly, trying to tell if anyone heard her yelling. No one noticed, I was safe. I grabbed my love and carried her all the way to my apartment.

When I got back up to my apartment I set her down on a chair and tied her up. I gagged her too. I couldn’t have her escaping me now that she was finally within my grasp. She will love me, my mind told me helpfully, it will just take time. 

It took a few hours for her to finally wake up but when she did I knew I had done the right thing by covering her mouth, she immediately tried to scream. “Shh, love, you’re okay.” I said, while stroking her hair. She quieted down and stared at me with a panic-stricken expression that was ruining her face. I took her gag off, grabbed a large needle and a very thick thread. Ignoring the tearful pleas coming from the tied up woman, I got to work.

The next morning I woke up and saw a sight that I would never grow tired of. There she was. Next to me. In my bed. I leaned in for a kiss and felt the bumps where the thread now resided in her lips. I pulled back and opened my eyes. There was blood on the chair where she had been tied up, but that didn’t matter to me. She was here, and she was sleeping next to me with a very large, very bloody, smile.