She woke up when she met him.

Not the first time, not even the hundreth time. 

It only took sitting crosslegged at the bar top staring into the back of his head while his shoulder led his arm to methodically move pasta through boiling water.

Steam rose from the stove, fogging up the glass of the microwave. But there he stood, buzzed blonde hair bent over that pot. 

And there she sat, her own shoulders hunched to rest pointed elbows against the edge of the counter, hands moving to cheeks so her face could take the moment in. Chin resting heavy against closed palms.

The music in the back of the room came to silence, a song ended, an eternal pause capturing a brief moment of simple perfection, her fascination extending for an eternity until the next song began.

He turned to ask her a question, and her attendtion scattered coming back together only to give him her full attention.

It was waking up over and over again each and every time that he looked at her. She could easily have remained awake had he left, but this infinite awakening was more grand than anything life had yet to produce.