I so don’t want to be attracted to him, and the fact that I am surprises me. Sometimes when I get home I convince myself that I’m just romanticising anyone who’s actually spoken to me, but then I see him the next day and my heart starts beating fast and I can’t really kid myself. It’s not as if he’s good looking, because he’s not. Sometimes he’s so plain that he looks bland. But it’s his voice and his mannerisms that fill him with some kind of colour. I listen to his voice and the resonance hooks me in. The worry lines on his forehead, his expression when he twists his face into a smile and the way his whole face lights up when he laughs those short bursts of laughter.
~ Saving Francesca by Melina Marchetta