There sits the perfect man, just across from me on the train this Thursday morning. He reads some fancy-papered book that often makes his brow crease. He is that exact embodiment of a romance pocketbook hero. Avalon. Harlequin. Precious Hearts, even! Long locks just ’til the shoulders, framing a meanly chiseled jaw. A tall and mighty nose. Smoldering eyes of a color that resemble some shade of the deepest sea. That devil-may-care, unapproachable attitude. Don’t even get me started on those lips… his lips. 🙂 With his perfection, reality bit me… that a man this beautiful wouldn’t even pay me the quickest glance or the teeniest bit of attention. Damn! Sucks….