I sat quietly, my heart still fluttering from the final hymn, when my gaze caught on a boy standing near the altar. He was tall, with skin like burnished mahogany and braids that framed his face perfectly. Light seemed to cling to him, making the ordinary church glow with something otherworldly. I couldn’t help but watch as he smiled politely at the elderly ladies, his voice gentle and kind.

As I walked out, my footsteps slowed, hoping for another glimpse. There he was—leaning against a pillar, typing on his phone. For a moment, our eyes met. His lips curled into the shyest smile, and I felt my cheeks flush with warmth. It was so brief, but it lingered with me all the way home.

Settling onto my bed, I opened Instagram, searching for anything to tether me to that fleeting moment. Suddenly, there he was—Rood, his profile unmistakable, posting pictures from the very church I’d just left. In each photo, his braids glistened, and his eyes held that same gentle mischief. My heart pounded as I realized: it was really him.

I stared at my phone, reading his username—Rood the goat. Was that his real name? It echoed in my head, strange and familiar all at once. Something about it just felt right, as if I’d always known him, even if we’d never spoken. I whispered to myself, "I love you, Rood. Even if it’s only in my dreams."

In my sleep, he was there again, his hand reaching for mine. His skin was warm, his braids soft between my fingers. We walked together through sunlit fields, laughing and talking like old friends. His voice was calm and bright, and every word made me feel cherished, as if I truly belonged at his side.

I woke with my heart full, caught between longing and hope. If only he would talk to me—just once. But until then, I would hold onto the memory of his touch, the comfort of his voice, and the magic of loving someone so deeply, even if only in my dreams.