Fog and mist surrounded her as she hoped for something more from the mundane grey skies above. She took refuge on a small wooden bench, waiting for the hand on her watch to continue its rotation. Rain had yet to fall but she could feel it's nearness in the air, the soft touch of leftover dew escaping the trees dangling branches. She could smell her cherry chap stick and her fresh coat of makeup that paled her already pale cheeks, the aroma replacing that of a crisp autumn morning. When the wind came, it brought leaves skipping across concrete, some flying and dancing through air and into her lap. Onto her sketchbook. She was an artist, a shy, subtle blonde who expressed her deepest thoughts and feelings only to her pencil and paper.

She shivered, staring at the blue cotton sweater beside her. She was cold; yes. Trembling, even. But to save her life she couldn't grant her body the reward of warmth; her heart the gift of satisfaction. In her utmost denial she knew that it was because of the one she was waiting for. The one with eyes as bold a blue as the fabric, as warm and delicate to the touch as well. The one with hair so intense a red, so free a spirit. The one who had no idea she was being yearned for. The one who's name she graced her lips to utter. Kairi.

As she waited on the bench she reminisced the evening before; just a casual get together with a friend. That's all they were. Friends. And when the night grew older and colder, her friend offered her sweater in her kindness. Thankful, she took it without question and wore it proudly in front of her crush. But when she got home, alone in the lonely dark, she could do nothing but hold the bundled cloth in her hands. At best she could smell it and clutch it to her desiring body, her limbs quivering as her nose took in the sweetest of scents. And when the wind challenged nature again, it beckoned her back to a state of reality.

Back to a time and place where her love was a forbidden secret, where her dreams were forced to stay as that. She glanced again at the sweater, then to her watch. She managed to kill seven minutes. But the wait for her love would remain eternal. The wait for a confession she desired, forever. And as her wait for eternity continued, her wait on the bench came to an end, the target of her affection nearing her presence.