This is how you met her: full of questions, and this is how she met you: unsure.
What would you do with all those questions?
But hey, come on. Who are we kidding? You love the rush. You like the chaos your brain sends to your body the first time your eyes met hers. You don’t even bother to answer your own questions.
Her name was kinda odd the first time she said it, but after you said it for the 789th times, you liked how it sounds. It sounds like a song you heard once somewhere crowded but you can’t remember. Only when you hear it, it starts to make sense.
She seems interested, or at least that’s how you remember it. Is it even the truth? Nobody knows. Nobody cares too. Hey, I’m only voices you heard inside your head. Why bother listening anyway?
Anyway, I found your note the other day.
Ultraviolet 
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