When I see you, my heart races. Everything in my body bursts into panicked overdrive even though I just want to talk to you. So badly. I wish I could control myself and get over it because I see you so often now. You're at the coffee shop when I'm getting my morning motivation, at the intersection when I'm waiting for the green light, at the park when I'm eating lunch and feeling generous toward the squirrels. Sometimes we lock eyes. Time freezes. I have words, but my mouth is always dry. Can you blame me? You died last month.

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From the IWMC Day 1 Challenge: write a 100-word story using one of the given prompts.