Time stood still. I realize that it was really just a trick of my mind, my memory going into overdrive, storing every little detail of that moment, but realizing that doesn't make it feel any different. So much happens in a moment, and most of the time we don't even realize it. This moment was different though. This was the moment right before I kissed you for the first time. I wish I could tell a magical story about a perfect evening that culminated in one of those first kisses that they write stories about, but we both know it wasn't like that at all. It was just a normal day like any other. We were just sitting there on the couch, watching TV. My mom was in the other room (remember how she walked in and made that noise? I still have no idea what that was supposed to mean. It was even better when she tried to "sneak out" as if we hadn't heard her already), and you had just said something about how these commercial breaks lasted entirely too long, and you were getting tired of waiting. I made an awkward joke about how the time would go by quicker if you were kissing me. Neither of us laughed though. And then there we were, in that moment. It was at the same time the most agonizingly painful moment, and the most amazing one. You probably want to slap me right now for that first part, but give me a second. This was the moment before we kissed. I knew it was going to happen, but before I could get there, the whole time stopping thing happened. I remember your eyes. They were closed, but I still remember exactly how they looked. Your nose, pretty much the same as it had been. Your lips, and my fear of missing them on this first attempt. Your feet, that you had tucked under you Indian-style on the couch, which kind of made the whole leaning in part a bit awkward. Those were the good parts. But beyond that, I remember the guy on the TV set out of the corner of my eye, in swimming trunks, throwing a Frisbee to promote whatever new drug had just gone on the market (I don't remember the drug, because the name wasn't on the screen at this point). I remember the brightness of the late afternoon sun as it came in through the window, and the speck within that brightness that was most likely a housefly, trapped from flying straight into the sun by a clear pane of glass. I remember all of these things, and more. It was agony getting to that first kiss. Then once it happened, it was over. Luckily, it was followed very shortly by a second, and a third. And for those, time was just right.