The corner of my eye seems to love every move you make. It follows you on its accord, even while I nudge it back to this really complicated excel sheet I need to decipher in the next two hours. Yet it has a mind of its own, the brain messages not quite reaching them. My eyes flit across to your side of the room, watch you and then hijack the messages from my brain to the heart, substituting it with those of their own doing, leading the heart to sound like a crescendo of drums rocking out at a concert.
The fingers are the next to be attacked, they mistype and suddenly the alphabets in your name seem to be the only ones that they can find on the keyboard, of course strung in the right order, god forbid, they spell your name incorrectly. Limb by limb its utter anarchy, all the cells in my body can really do is attune themselves to the tiniest movement you make. Around you free will is a bittersweet myth.
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