From the moment he laid eyes on you, he was obsessed.

     Perhaps obsessed is a fickle word, something that hardly scratched the surface of the depth of his infatuation. It was merely an unfaithful description, blaspheming the reality of his diety. There is no word that truly fits the indescribable turmoil that would enter into his soul upon the sight of you, and it was certainly no word he had ever begun to understand before. No, he was not obsessed with you, but worse: he loved you.
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