I remember the first time I saw you. Your long, curly, Chestnut-coloured hair was attempting to free itself from the hairband you had put there to restrain it. An armful of books in tow, you strode towards the library door. Me, dazed by your astounding beauty, did not get out of the way in time. (I'd like to just point out that if I had moved we probably wouldn't have ever met. That would SUCK. But at least your parents wouldn't hate me.)
So we collided, you trying to exit through the same door I was trying to get into the library through. You fell over, the books you were carrying cascaded all over the floor, and you glared at me. Probably