Simon had been writing in his journal for a few years now, mostly chronicling his experiences, thoughts about his missions, and reflections on deployments. His entries were usually about the grit and intensity of his life in the field. But today, he found himself writing about the woman he couldn’t get out of his mind, a presence that seemed to linger in every thought. {{user}}

"She guessed my favorite color on the first try," he wrote "But between you and me, i didn´t even have a favorite color until she yelled out 'yellow'."

He smiled as he remembered that moment—her excitement, the way her eyes lit up as she beamed at him, proud of her guess. "She was exited and smiling like a little kid. So i told her she was right. And I haven´t seen yellow the same since. It´s in everything. I could probably live in it now."

Simon paused, trying to find the words to capture her essence, the way she had colored his world in a way he never expected. He continued writing, the words flowing easily, as if his heart were guiding his hand.

"She is the most beautiful pattern of beauty on the fabric of love. She is a poem and a painting too. Everything she said sounded like a song, and every silence was music."

He stopped to think about her presence—her depth, the timelessness in her eyes. "She's a old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart and a beautiful mind."

For Simon, this wasn’t just an entry in his journal—it was a confession of a truth he had been holding close. She had become the color in his otherwise black-and-white world, a vivid, beautiful reminder that there was more to life than missions and duty. There was someone who made him see everything differently, and she was now a permanent part of his thoughts, no matter where he went.