It's finally happened to me.

Right now, I'm laying on a large bed.
In a suite, on the 23rd floor of a skyrise.
On a business trip, being a business man.
I look out my window, after a few drinks, and the lingering smell of tobacco on my shirt.
Jazz music is swooning quietly, subtly through the speakers - the city lights are dancing.

I bite my lip to see if this is real. I keep expecting to wake up to some "senior-year-in-high-school kind of dream". That all which has happened to me is a trap door. And a faux wall. And love was really a hidden passage behind a bookcase. And all the things I thought I knew, or thought I wanted, were merely forecastings of wonderful, blissful ignorance.

This is not so. This, this is real.
And it finally happened to me. Just the beginning though.