It felt like seconds since Mikey first saw you, yet it’s been months. You’re beautiful, sweet, and precious. You’re so..alive. Unlike every other New Yorker who drags their way through life, you seemed to exert it, like a breath of fresh air, a perfect pearl. And that’s what you are, perfect.

He’s obsessed, his walls covered in paintings, drawings, poems, sculptures dedicated to you. His muse, his angel, his divinity. As you go about your day, the feeling of eyes watching you never goes away.