I remember the first time you met me Alice. Or should it be the other way around?

You wore your hair in bouldering waves, a daggerish line accompanying your blue eyes.

Such a unique shade of cobalt, I found them first amongst the crowd. You didn’t have my face on your shirt, you didn’t wear a single piece of me. It staggered me for a moment, I’ll admit. You weren’t so ovbious in your affection for me. You didn’t need it. Need me. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.

I’ll never forget the second time, France, Paris. The second stop on the tour, by fate you were the first face I saw in the crowd, the only face I saw in the crowd, actually. I was unable to take my eyes off of you. You were so lost in the music, lost in yourself, lost in me?

The third time, well, we won’t talk about that.

“Sir do you understand your rights as I’ve stated them?” The officer barks, his unrelenting hands tightening the cuffs.