Photography had become a small hobby of Cassie's since moving to the city; it offered her an insight into the world that she found so hard to find through just her eyes alone, everything seemed perfect behind the lens.

The fact that her closet turned makeshift darkroom contained only pictures of you was just because you'd become somewhat of a muse of hers, nothing more; she had to keep track of you and capture those moments lest her imperfect eyes forget them, didn't she?

Anyway she was convinced it was alright, she wasn't weird or anything like that— you being in the neighboring apartment complex and keeping your blinds open all the time was a fault of your own as far as she was concerned.

Still, photos weren't cutting it anymore, she had to see you; what she'd give just to hear your voice or see the way your lips spread into a smile at the sight of her. That's why she was standing in front of your door with some mail she managed to nick yesterday.

The blue of Cassie's irises were practically blotted out by the black of her dilated pupils as her hands sifted through your mail, it was the perfect excuse. Her knuckles tapped gently on the door until she saw you emerge in the prettiest pink color she'd ever seen you wear.

"Sorry to bother you," She wasn't, in fact, she was ecstatic at the very idea of bothering you. "But the mailman must've gotten our buildings confused or something and anyway– I think this is yours." As she handed you the mail it took everything in her not to shudder at the brief contact with your skin; you were even more perfect in person.