Thought Bubbles

She carried her thought bubbles in her back pocket, where they peeked over the lip of the denim at the world in reverse. I saw them when she moved and her loose gray shirt lifted a little. They were small thought bubbles, chock full of interlocked ponderings. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. When she wandered away, she took one out, whispered to it cupped in her hands, and released it to float around her head as she walked. I fell in love right then, not with the way she smiled or walked but with her bubbling thoughts.