'Am I weird?' she asks. 'Of course not.' I reply. 'You're lying.' she quickly reads my mind. We get up from the table after finishing dinner, and walk out of the restaurant. Her every step is quirky; sometimes she takes long strides, sometimes jumps in the air as she walks, sometimes makes dramatic pauses and resumes. Her gaze is into the milkyway itself, her mind wanders a thousand places in a second. The constant music in my ears from all her singing douses me with melody, and her constant questions rekindle my wisdom. 'Am I weird?' she asks again. 'No honey, you're not.' I reply. 'You're lying.' She catches me again. One moment, she's out capturing the stars with her camera from the wild forest, next moment she starts playing the guitar sitting on the porch. One day, she plans to be the best painter in the world, next day she starts studying the human dna. As we walk down the deserted streets at midnight with the moon peeking through the clouds, she stops walking, looks up at the stars, then looks at me, and asks 'Am I weird?' I take a long pause, turn to her, hold her face as I whisper 'Yes you are. You are the weirdest person I have ever met. Weirder than me.' She gets visibly shocked, and tries to say something, but I interrupt her 'Honey, that's what drives me mad to you. I can't stop thinking about you. I can't stop hearing your songs, I can't stop looking at you. Your quirks. Your eyes. Your mind. Your thoughts. I can't live a day without you, without listening to your plans, your ideas, your questions. You're not afraid to listen to your instinct, and that's what I love about you. If the name for that is weirdness, then yes, you're weird. But that's what makes us human. That's what makes us alive. Yes, you're weird.' I stop speaking and we just stare into each other's eyes for a long long time. And then, we start smiling and continue walking.