It was the way the sunlight danced at the tips of her red hair, illuminating, and how her smile was even brighter.
It was the way she straightened up in her seat, bristling with confidence, when she was absolutely, positively sure of an answer, and how she still blushed at praise of her knowledge.
It was the way people were drawn to her like moths to a flame, and how she tended to each and every one with as much compassion as they deserved.
It was the way she read, fingers skimming lightly over the pages, ignoring the harsh pry of reality, and how she was lost and never wanted to be found.
It was the way she laughed, chiming, eyes crinkling at the corners, hair framing her face in thin wisps, and how it made the butterflies turn his stomach upside-down.
It was the way she asked questions, all curiosity and wide-eyed innocence, and how she absorbed everything she could about the world around her.
It was the way her hand bent as she wrote, a neatly curving script, wrist arched ever so slightly, and how her notes tended to trail off into her stories of her own creation.
It was the way she knew she deserved more, and how she was content anyway.
It was the way she formulated opinions and beliefs and stuck to them, undefeatable, and how she stood up for them to the end.
It was everything about every way and quirk and attribute and detail that made her who she was, the way she could mend his heart at its heaviest, the way she lived as if each day were a pleasant dream she could jolt awake from at any moment, the way she inspired him, the way she became his world and his reason without ever needing to try,
And how he loved her.