She has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, but I rarely see it. She kisses with eyes open because she doesn’t trust enough to close them, always pulling away too soon. I reach for her hands, but she keeps them over her heart, placed delicately on her collarbones like I might bruise them if she lets go. She holds her breath when she loves a song, floating above the world in the passenger seat of my car. And I want to reach out and touch her, weightless, but it would break the trance. She has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, but she rarely smiles at me.