It was at about 9pm and and we were out in the yard. You looked like you had been sleeping for the past century, your hair all messed up, and you had a tank top without a bra on. We were talking about the most random things, from how much you hate school to novels of an author I don’t even remember. You said something about wanting to live the life of the characters in the novel and I teased you. You laughed. Your laugh sounded like a car without an engine being turned on, like the sound a cracked disk would make in the CD player, like music. I made fun of your laugh and called it ugly, and you laughed some more. Truthfully, I think your laugh is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed. If I could, I would turn my veins to strings, my hands to real life puppets and make jokes all day, just so I could hear you laugh. You see, that was the moment I realized how much I loved you. We were only talking about a random book, yet I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about how perfect your laugh was.