It was a windy, dreary Monday afternoon when I finally gave in to the pitiless yearning in the depths of my stomach.
He was standing a few inches away from my locker with a couple of his friends, tilting his head back with a genuine laugh that, upon hearing, would brighten anyones day.
I walked slowly down the hall, capturing every moment as it unfurled, silently yearning for the luscious jet black curls that used to meet the collars of whichever teenage-angst ridden teeshirt he happened to be sporting that day.
As the sun tilted in from the barren, dusty windows, it penetrated his deep blue eyes into the sparkling of a thousand crystals, and I silently drew my breath in amazement.
He was physically the same, but I knew in great depth that he was emotionally a different person.
Even knowing so, I could not cease the playbacks of the vivid black-and-white memories as I now idled at my dingy crimson locker, hoping to catch just a glimpse of his now drastically different life.
They littered my mind -- these flashes of the past.
There was the wind ruffling his hair and carressing his skin while he whispered the bittersweet "I love you's," the two of us staring at the bright, glittering stars and wondering silently just what good deeds were done to bring the two of us together, the mornings we would cling to each other -- bed-headed and sleepy-eyed, too lazy to do anything but lay in our cotton-sheeted comatose.
My brain began to swell with the sweet nectar of last September, and lost as I was in the memories, I realized that I was now eyelocking with his blue-skyed eyes -- the eyes that had beheld my deepest secrets in the darkest of hours.
It was simply a glance, and then it was done.
He had to keep walking, keep moving on to his next class, a new day, a new life.
And while deep down I was a bottomless pit of destruction and blame, and while I so desperately wondered and dreamed what he thought when he saw my long brown hair and blue eyes, I realized I too was moving on -- to my friends, my career, and my life.
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