For a situation so abstract, so undeniably obscure...how can they quantify it?

A relationship defined by poor-timing, a trial-and-error method of discovery, and general unfairness. One that, when analyzed, often makes little sense aside from the obvious; love. This "love", however, can't be measured...at least not in scalable form. It's not a matter of intensity. It's not taken up as a pulse. It's impossible to gauge as an emotional value...No. Such an irrational thing can't be put down in rational means. Like the situation, itself, obscurity is the driving theme. It's not to be seen...It just is.

Sometimes it's obvious. It's the kisses up the length of her spine. It's in their laughs over the phone. It's the softness of her greetings to him. It's the way he slides his arms around her waist as they do dishes. It's the way they hook pinkies on their errand-runs. It's the proximity of their chairs as they peer at the computer screen. It's the way she wriggles as he plays with her hair. It's the sharing of ice-cream on an evening out. It's the cologne she buys him for Christmas. It's the way they both blush every time they see that old lifeguard stand. It's his canvas hanging on her wall. It's the photos he's taken in far-off countries of things that made him think of her. It's the way her eyes shine, hidden under the sheets come morning. It's the way she smells his shirts, long after they've lost his scent. It's the way he writes things for her at 3AM.

Many times, though, it's the less noticeable moments...often disregarded; a few seconds or less. The goosebumps as they fight the cold, slip-sliding across frozen lakes. The off-key singing as they drive around in the car. The furrowed eyebrows of indecision at the video-store. The funny faces made in the mirror while brushing their teeth. The way he groans every time she decides to drive. The rolling eyes as they place their respective orders at the local seafood joint...oysters and crab-cakes for the millionth time. The mutual teasing of younger siblings. The bickering over which flavour of aforementioned ice-cream is better.  The face she makes when he cracks open a beer. The complaints of sand between their toes after running along the beach. The giddy feeling whenever the arrivals door opens at the airport. The criticisms of his energy-drinks. The frowns of another loss at MarioKart64. The incessant tossing during sleep. The grins when that one song plays on iTunes. The entire idea of "breakfast for dinner".  The way they're the only two people who will understand this...