It didn’t start out all fireworks and loud-speaker marching band music.
The fire kindled tentatively.
A cautious and shy blaze, a tiny tickle in my stomach. That funny feeling that comes when a car goes over a rise in the road too fast. No roller coaster drop of frightening apprehension, but a perfect shiver from an unexpected thrill.
Heady tremors of excitement when hands touched or with a brush of warm lips against a flushed cheek. A quickening heart when he was near, or a loss for words at the sound of his voice.
A small gasp, a school-girl blush, a perpetual smile, set off a slow burning rocket fuse. Lit long ago, a wildfire of oohs and aahs rained down to crash smoldering back to earth as white, hot embers.
A mere whisper, a soft-breathed word, can still set the fireworks aflame.