• Impulse. The impulse overrides our judgment sometimes. It takes a hold of our soul and turns it into something we're fearful of. This was what he was feeling when he starred into those icy blue eyes that turned a luscious green depending on her mood. The impulse to lean over and ever so gently put his shaking lips to those sweet, delicate rosy lips of hers. Why couldn't he just do it? Why wasn't the impulse taking over his judgement? He wanted to, desperately, kiss her and keep her as his forever. But he knew that that would never happen. They were just two different worlds that would never collide together unless if, by some miracle, he could get that crazy impulse to maybe just whisper a soft, "Hello."

    Impulse. The impulse to just walk up to him and tell him all those feelings she has felt for him for such a long time. The impulse to stand out from the crowd and walk over there and kiss his fragile frowning lips. Why couldn't she just allow herself some pleasure? She has never been kissed by someone she truly cares about, but this time is different. This time she will get the impulse to just stand up and scream, "KISS ME!" That will never happen, she tells herself. That's not meant to happen, the social crowd tells her. Just leap, her heart tells her. They were just two different worlds that would never collide together unless if, by some miracle, she could get that dangerous impulse to get up and sit, ever so gently, next to him.