A smile.

The simple upward turn of the lips.

It always starts with a smile, whether anyone is aware of it or not.

Before long, there's a laugh. A laugh and a smile. Then a blush.

The blush is what gets you.

And before you know it, you're fucked.

Because love is a tricky beast.

Love likes to bash you over the head with a tire iron when you least expect it. Love wants nothing more than to pistol whip you into oblivion and leave you bleeding in the gutter, wanting more.

Because love is a sick, twisted bitch.

And you wouldn't have her any other way.

Fuck love.

But it always starts with a smile.