There she was, leaning by the balcony, her face turned toward the endless night sky now wearing a white satin speghetti strap gown which framed her form so sinfully, that it made me want to run my hands over her. Her hair was tied in a loose bun with a white scrunchie speckled with little blue bows she'd picked up earlier from the couch. Her hair strands had escaped, swaying gently in the breeze, framing her form in a way that seemed almost deliberate, like the universe itself conspired to make her look this breathtaking.

One strap hung low on her arm, exposing the curve of her neck, her bare shoulder, and the delicate expanse of her upper back. The moonlight draped over her like a jealous lover, casting her in an ethereal glow that made her seem a vision of dream and untouchable yet all I could think about was how badly I wanted to ruin that untouchable illusion. To mark her, to make her mine in every way that mattered.

And one word reverberated in my mind.

Enchanting.

Why does such simplicity have this kind of power over me?