back and to the left

I envision that I would see her while I'm siting, tearing paper, staring out door. See her walk up, put her hands on the glass and smile. Her smile warms me up like the sun to a man swimming in the arctic while I sit in the frigid lobby. After staring in disbelief, I stand up, walk to the door, open it and we embrace. The distance now but illusion. Time now forgotten by her comforting presence. I feel as if I would have known she would have been coming before hand, the moment would lose all impact. It's chaotic nature is it's alluring beauty. Surprise is anarchy and anyone who denies it is lying to themselves. We crave chaos but trying to deny ourselves of it like some strange religious repentance for natural human characteristics. Romanticism is dead but the realism of chaos to me is a far greater love. I just want to kiss her. Have her grab me with extreme desire and longing and just be in that space in time forever.