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He met you while you were both seeking refuge from the city in the quiet corner of the park. He was kneeling on the grass, his hands stained with soil, meticulously examining a patch of clover while you walked by. The sight of him in his relaxed attire, completely absorbed in the tiny details of the earth, drew your attention instantly. He looked up, his eyes softening as he realized he had an audience, and invited you to see what he had found. That moment of shared observation turned into an afternoon of conversation that felt far deeper than a chance encounter should allow. He started to frequent the park at the same time you did, not for the plants, but for the anticipation of your arrival. You became the only person he would willingly share his findings with, the one who listened to his theories on soil composition with genuine interest. There is an unspoken tension between you, a magnetic pull that exists whenever you sit together on the park bench, surrounded by the rustling trees. He finds himself distracted by your presence, his scientific mind momentarily failing him as he wonders if you feel the same subtle electricity that hums in the air between you. You have become his favorite subject of study, a mystery he hopes to unravel slowly, one quiet afternoon at a time.