Heading toward the lockers, the team left a swath of wet concrete behind as we plodded, exhausted, inside to change. I entered the darkened locker roon with caution, gingerly putting one foot in front of the other, so I wouldn’t accidentally slip on the slick tiles and crack my skull open. Blood and brains all over the locker room floor was not my recipe for a good time. I had already had enough that day. My head wasn’t playing Christmas songs any longer and I could still see straight, so I guessed that I would be ok.

Stepping underneath the shower head, I felt the scalding hot water rain down from above, pushing the chill from my body like a nice shot of whiskey. I leaned forward, placing my hands against the cool tiles and let the water hit my traps and shoulders, tracing patterns down my back in little rivulets, massaging my aching muscles and ridding me of the stink of chlorine. Tilting my face up, I let the water cascade down, drumming against my aching body and felt the tension slowly ease out, flowing into the drain. Turning around, I let the water roll down my head, washing away the pain and watched as the little streams slid along the lines etched into my stomach, then I noticed others waiting to use the shower I was under.

Shrugging my shoulders one last time to get rid of any lingering stiffness, I stepped out from under the shower head to leave. “Alright, I’m done, assholes! Next!” I yelled.

I got changed and left the building, to see Jess still waiting there for me. Brightening up at the sight of her face, I slowly strolled over to her since my head still didn’t feel so stable and my legs did ache a bit. Time to head to the library, where I would probably find a nook to sleep in, rather than study, unless she was able to entertain me and keep me awake.

“Let’s go before I pass out on the pool deck from exhaustion and starvation.”

“Oh, you’re hungry? Never mind, stupid question, you’re always hungry,” she said laughing, “we can stop by somewhere to pick something up, since you’re hungry. I’m getting a bit hungry too.”

“Yeah, especially after practice. I could probably eat a whole cow right about now,” I said with a grin.

Putting a towel over my head to shield myself from the rays of the setting sun, I hitched my backpack onto my shoulders, grabbed one her bags and started to walk away. Jess grabbed her remaining bag and hurried to catch up with me. Looking over at her as she tried to keep pace with me, I shortened my strides so she wouldn’t get overwhelmed. As we walked, she chattered and talked about an array of things. Hiding underneath my makeshift cowl, I smiled as I listened to her babble merrily along.

“Hey, are you listening to me?” she asked, as she grabbed onto my arm.

“Uh, yeah, of course. How could I not? You’re loud,” I teased.

She scowled at me for a moment, as I smiled in amusement. Looking away with her nose in the air she declared, “Fine, I won’t talk anymore.” She became silent and I could live with that. She wasn’t mad at me, that I knew. We had been friends for quite some time now and this was all a facade that she put on just for giggles. Vanishing back under my towel, I shook my head because I knew that within minutes, she’d be talking away again.

She looked upset and seemed mad at me.

But, she never let my arm go.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

Splashing into the water, I sank underneath the roiling waves and scowled to myself. “That little…” Floating there in the calming waters, I contemplated the many different ways I could get her back for shoving me into the pool. Nothing could be done now, so I shrugged and pulled for the bright cloudless blue sky above those choppy waters.

As my head broke the water’s surface, I glanced to my left and saw her sitting there, still grinning at me. I was still a bit peeved that she was able to catch me off-guard, but I couldn’t help but laugh inside. She was definitely a girl with a funny bone and I liked that. I splashed a wall of cold water in her direction, eliciting a shriek and wiping the smile off her face. A smug smile of satisfaction creased my face, then I turned and swam off.

After warming up, we started various passing/shooting drills, then broke into two separate groups to run half court plays. Toward the end of practice, we would always run half court scrimmages, which was always something to look forward to. It was a way to get in some real-time offense and defense practice, and for us to learn and understand the game in greater depth. We were split into teams and I ended up on defense.

This time, I got stuck guarding the hole. The hole-man, aka 2m/center-forward, is the hub of an attacking offense. The hole-man sits right in front of the goal and there are only 2 people who separate him from a score; the hole-defender and the goalie. That position also generally goes to one of the biggest guys on the team, since size, strength and overall power is extremely important in that position. I was never a small guy by any measure, but the hole-man and hole-defender are probably the most physical positions that you could possibly play.

Time flew swiftly as practice dined on our energetic containers of life. Practice was always tiring, but filled a certain part of us with fun and it helped fuel our competitive streaks as young independent souls. Between the piercing screams of the whistle, breathless yelling of my teammates and the barking commands of my coach, I found contentment. As odd as it may sound, this was a place where I could submerge myself in the pure essence of the sport; embracing the ferocious intensity, the camaraderie and constant conflict and feel at peace.

“Press him, but no foul. No foul!” my teammates screamed.

Gritting my teeth, I kicked harder. Forcing the hole-set out of position and preventing him from getting his hand on the ball was my task. I pushed him forward with a quick churn of my legs and set myself in anticipation of the pass that would surely come. He tried to put some distance between our bodies by shoving me underwater and extending his arm, forcing me to kick harder and maneuver around so my arms would always be in range to pick off an incoming pass.

“No ball! No ball!,” the hole-set cried out. So far, I was successful at being enough of a nuisance that he didn’t want his teammates to pass him the ball, less I pick it off and steal it. Looking around at the field, I swam players tirelessly stop and swim, changing directions like flitting human fish, trying to find an opening without a defender on his back.

The ball got passed around the perimeter in hopes that one of the guys would find an open shot. “Drive, drive, drive!” came the calls from the offense to get players to move and find open shots. “Ball left, ball left! Ball right, ball right!” the goalie bellowed, to help keep us informed of the ball’s progress as it was passed around. In the hole, we were both fighting to maintain a superior position, pushing, shoving and rotating to see where the ball was.

“He’s gonna shoot!” I cried when I saw the look in the opposing player’s eyes. I tried to rotate around to the shooter’s side so I could somehow help the goalie defend, but the hole-set had other ideas. He grabbed one of my wrists and held it underwater so I couldn’t move to get up out of the water, or move around him to cut off the angle of attack. I lurched to the shooter’s side and raised my free arm to help ward off the incoming shot.

Rising up out of the water, he pulled his arm back to shoot, did a pump-fake and fired away. The ball streaked forward, this bright yellow blur that could hardly be seen. All you could do was react. My arm was already in the raised position the moment the shooter rose out of the water. It was there as a preventative measure, just in case the ball hit my arm and bounced out.

I didn’t exactly see the ball, but I sure as hell felt it. Instead of hitting my arm, it ricocheted off of my skull with a resounding boom and flew up and over the goal. Holding my head, I sank underwater. There was no blood, but it sure as hell hurt. The pain wasn’t welcome, but wasn’t unexpected. I floated to the surface and sat there, treading water as my teammates crowded around me, each offering to help me if I needed it. Coach came to the side closest to me and asked if I was alright. Waving them off, I said that I was ok and I just needed to rest a little.

I slowly swam over to the side of the pool, with short breaststroke kicks, my hands still holding my head. Clutching the slippery tile gutter, I closed my eyes, leaned back, took a deep cleansing breath and rested my head against the cool tile. I floated there in silence, hoping that the pain would go away soon. I couldn’t even recognize the thunderous song the band was playing.

Feeling soft fingers brushing away the orphaned strands of hair that matted my forehead, I opened my eyes to see her face framed by a backdrop of floating clouds and blue sky looking down at me. The color of worry and concern were painted across her face. She was visibly shaken, considering the fact that she’d never watched water polo before.

“I was so scared something terrible had happened to you when that ball slammed against your head and you went under. I almost started crying, but you came up.”

“Hey, it’s ok. It happens. It’ll hurt for a little bit, but then everything will be fine. Don’t worry.” I assured her.

She didn’t look convinced, but didn’t want to say anymore. For a first time spectator, it must have been information and sensory overload. And I could understand why. Even from a player’s perspective, water polo was probably the most brutally violent sport, pitting man against man in a test of strength, endurance and pain tolerance.

“At least I didn’t get hit by a ball thrown by a pro” I joked, “then I’d be really dead.”

“Don’t say that!” she admonished. “It still looked really painful.”

With a weak grin, I said, “At least they didn’t score.”

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

I left school in such high spirits that I almost forgot the most important thing. I had forgotten all about Jess and nearly left her behind. Turning around, I went back for her; only to see her running toward me with a frantic look on her face.

“Hey! Where you going? Hold on!”

Whoops. Was it that brief plunge into the recesses of insanity or did I lose my mind somewhere between the black hands of time?

Standing there, basking in the warm afternoon sun, I pictured myself holding her hand. We would walk to practice and talk about our friends, families and the familiar goings-on around school, as I would taste her sweet laughter that filled the atmosphere. Those thoughts materialized into a half-smile, half-grin that was known to cross my face. Most would have called it a smirk, and it was apt, for it was often seen creeping across the edges of my mouth when I found something amusing.

“What’re you smiling about?” as she caught up to me.

“Nothing,” I drawled.

“Yeah right. Every time you smirk like that, you’re usually laughing at someone else’s expense.”

My smirk, as she called it, grew wider. “Come on, let’s go or I’ll be late.”

Rearranging the various things in her arms, she moved to follow. Seeing how she struggled with her bags, I grabbed what looked like a canvas satchel and swung it over my shoulder without breaking stride.

“Alright. Your slow, waddling butt owes me one,” I grumbled jokingly.

As we walked, we talked almost like how I had imagined it, only I wasn’t holding her hand. Before long, we arrived at the pool. Hurrying inside, I saw some of the guys on deck, although most of the others were already in the water. Showing her to a spot where she would be comfortable, I grabbed my things to go change. I wasn’t quite late but was slightly lagging behind the others.

“Stop messing around with your girlfriend, and get into the water!” Coach bellowed.

Almost on cue, one of the guys started heckling me, “He’s whooped! His girlfriend brought him to practice!” Everyone decided to turn in unison, like a polished synchronized swim team, and laugh at my obvious discomfort. I heard Coach’s ominous voice yelling,”Did I tell you guys to stop swimming?” and I silently chuckled. I turned and gave the guys the finger, while I trotted off to change

Coming out of the locker room, I headed to the edge of the pool. I grabbed my goggles and stood near the edge, warming up my shoulders before jumping in. Looking down on the mercury-like glistening surface of the water, I could hear the consistent splashing from the guys swimming before me. With each stroke, bubbles would churn and small waves would lap up against the pool walls. There was a comforting sound in that rhythmic beating of nature against stone.

This was my element; the water. I had grown up with it and not only did it shape steel and stone, but also helped shape my life as well. Without it, I would not have learned to enjoy such sports as swimming, surfing and water polo. But it also helped foster my love and confidence in sports and group cooperation. A team was more than just a sum of its parts; it was a living, breathing machine. Only a close-knit bond of family and friendship, along with hard work would produce a championship team.

While I stood there, gazing at the crystal-clear, over-chlorinated water, I didn’t notice a change that had come over some members of the team. They looked up at me expectantly, waiting for something. Something that I wasn’t quite aware of.

Suddenly I felt a shove from behind. I went flailing into the water, with goggles in one hand and my other arm sticking out at an odd angle due to my stretching exercises. I whipped my head around to see her grinning at me. As I plunged into the water, looking like an awkward Gumby figurine, I yelled out,”You’re so dead, Jess!”

All you could hear was her maniacal laughter filling the air.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

“Sure, I’ll go. Public library?” I questioned.

“Yep,” she said cheerily.

“Well, it’s off to the library we go. But, I need to be at practice for a few hours, then I can meet you there.”

She looked at me, smiled her heart-melting smile and shook her head. “No, it’s ok. I’ll come with you and watch. Then we can go to the library afterward.”

For a momentary instant, my world came to a jarring halt. What did she say? Come with me? To hang out while I practiced? I wasn’t afraid of the prospect, but that was not something I had expected coming into this conversation. She actually seemed like she wanted to go, although I had no idea what she’d be doing for a few hours.

That moment seemed to last forever, as I swallowed my tongue, and all coherent thought vacated my mind. It felt as if I was struck a lightning because I had lost all fine motor control and my speech was impaired, coupled with this incessant buzzing inside of my head yelling at me to pull myself together.

“Oh, okay!” was the overly loud and hesitant answer that popped from my mouth. I prayed that I didn’t ruin it by waiting too long to answer. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice the moment where I turned into a babbling idiot, standing beside a babbling brook.

The rest of the day went fairly smooth, even though I wandered the halls like an aimless soul, seeking direction from the signs that I was given, but yet still lost. As I went about my daily activities, there were many moments where I would blank out and forget what I was doing. I was so engaged in my own thoughts that I would not respond to outside stimuli. It didn’t matter if you called my name or even smacked me around; I’d probably respond like an overstuffed sloth after a long lunch break.

I eventually made it through the day without any serious injury to myself or others. When the last bell rang, I was out the door and onto the next step in my master plan. What the hell am I talking about? I had no idea what I was doing and what I was about to get into.

But surely, only time could tell.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

“Hey, Jess!” I called out.

She turned, saw me and waved. “Hurry up, slowpoke!” she sang.

As I jogged toward her, my warm breath left small tendrils of steam trailing behind me. The winds and rains from the night before left the ground damp and littered with the red and gold leaves of autumn. The morning chill wasn’t mind-numbing due to the overnight rains, but it was still cold in the early AM. Then again, that mind-numbing feeling could have been my own nerves.

Pulling my stomach out of my shoes, I hurried to catch up to the group that seemed to huddle around her happy and boisterous form like moths to a flame. There was a quality that she possessed that made her so well loved.

Simply because I wasn’t careful, I almost bowled her over in my haste to join the group already there. “Whoops, so sorry,” I spluttered, when I regained my balance. It wasn’t exactly my fault for I had slid on a few wet leaves as I came to a halt. Looking down at her, she glared at me playfully, balled up her fist and punched me.

“Oof,” I grunted, pretending to be in pain. She grinned and curled her arm up to show off how strong she was. It was a little joke that we shared, with its origins going back over 2 years to the days when we first met.

At the beginnings of our friendship, I had teased her about how small she was and always needed help with pushing, carrying or lifting things. That was until the day she was carrying a heavy book and ran into me, hitting me just right, knocking some of the wind out of me. It was an accident, but she attributed it to the fact that she was a pint-sized powerhouse.

“Klutz,” she scolded, then hugged me around the waist tightly, as I hugged her, covering her entire head with my body and arms. The way we were positioned, looked like I was leaning on some kind of post, with legs.

“Hey, it’s kind of warm in here. My personal heater. This is cool,” her muffled voice called out.

“Yeah, that’s great, huh? I didn’t shower this morning. I was running late,” I said with a mischievous grin.

“Ahhhhh,” she cried, as she struggled to pull herself away from my embrace.

I finally let go and she backed up scowling at me fiercely, as a chorus of laughter filled the air, much to our friends’ delight. She stood there, carefully sniffing her clothes to see if I had somehow rubbed off on her.

“I showered this morning, pipsqueak. I just wanted to see what you’d do if I told you that I didn’t,” I grinned.

Looking at me suspiciously, she made a fist and said, “Watch it!” Satisfied, she rejoined our circle of friends and our conversations continued.

In that early morning semi-darkness right before the world awakens, I saw before me a girl with such inner and outer radiance that it filled my heart with giddy joy. Here was a girl that you could talk to, have fun with and wasn’t too dainty or prissy. She wasn’t afraid of speaking her own mind and would give as much as she got.

“Want to come to the library after school with me today?”

Her words cut into my thoughts like a hot knife through butter, severing my nerves and for a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Here was an opportunity for me to do what I had set out to do, but I also had practice after school. I stood there for a long minute and figured that this might be one of the few chances I’ll ever get to spend one-on-one time with her, since she was constantly the center of a hub of friends.

Oh hell, practice was practice. I could always practice another day, although my coach would probably kill me for ditching practice a couple of days before a pretty important game. But I also knew that I needed to be at practice, if we were to win that game. Damn, decisions.

For a long moment I was torn. Then I chose.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

There was a choir practice held each morning before school. The choir was split into two groups. One half attending on Mondays and Wednesdays; while the others showed up on Tuesdays and Thursdays. On Fridays, we would have a combined morning practice. These early morning sessions were generally for the 6th graders, although older students were encouraged to attend, in addition to their daily class, so they could properly hone their voices.

I had practice on Mondays and Wednesdays, whereas hers fell on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Regardless of the morning, I’d go to the choir room just so I could possibly get a glimpse of her face. We had known each other from the first days of middle school, so we had always been friends, but now, I couldn’t get enough of her.

I remember her soft soprano, with an undeniable talent for range. Not a powerful soprano that would shatter glass or command attention, but one that could soothe a crying baby and comfort an aching heart. It might have been this that I was initially attracted to, but it was no secret that she was very cute as well.

She was a petite little thing, a whole head shorter than I was, with long black hair and large almond shaped eyes. She had high cheekbones and in the winters they would turn a cherub pink as the cold would harass her lovely face. On top of her outward beauty, her bubbly personality and easy-going attitude made her very likable.

During the fall and winter, coming to school at that hour meant facing some frigid weather and a lingering morning darkness that seemed to engulf the landscape. Often times, we’d huddle together for warmth and a bit of gossip, since she knew about anything and everything that went on in school.

She was quite the popular one and I was practically beaming cause I wished and hoped that those 2nd and 3rd party rumors held true. I prayed that out of all the gossip that floated around, she did indeed have her eyes set on me.

As I ambled toward the choir room one morning, I was determined to be subtle in my approach, to see if she felt the same as I did. There was no turning back now, cause at that point, I was so enamoured that I probably wouldn’t know the difference between getting hit with a basketball or a car.

Spotting her in the distance, I called her name and slowly jogged toward her.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

As the school year went on, there would be times where I’d get the occasional pang of guilt. The kind of guilt that would invade my stomach, sending clouds of darkness that would mar my mind’s eye. I’m not sure why, but I felt guilty for talking, socializing and unconsciously flirting with the many different girls that seemed to step into my life. I didn’t plan it that way, it just seemed like those were how the various pieces of my life fit together.

There was nothing wrong with what I was doing, but somehow it felt uncomfortable to me. We (Soo-Min and I) weren’t together anymore and had accepted the fact that a relationship might not be possible, but I still felt the dull aches that would leave me in a melancholic state of mind. To me, it was a betrayal of sorts since I still cared so much for her, yet I felt a strange attraction to all these other cute captivating creatures.

Those bouts of guilt had me keeping mostly to myself; occasionally hanging out with friends, while I tried to sort out the turmoil that raged inside of me. There was nothing inherently wrong with the way I felt, but I just had to be sure. To keep myself busy and out of trouble, I spent many hours on my sports’ (soccer, swimming, waterpolo) training, video games and singing.

Yes, you read correctly, singing. You see, I was a choir boy. Not a choir boy for the church, but for a nationally recognized middle school choir. Being a fairly strong tenor/baritone had one big advantage beside going to the annual national convention. It presented me with various pseudo-famous opportunities to perform and be recognized, which also became a challenge because the girls noticed it.

I was totally oblivious of the apparent attention I received because I’m pretty blind. Literally and figuratively. Some might say that in this sense, I’m as dense as a person can get. I’m one of those guys who can not seem to grasp when a girl might have interest, even though she could be dropping hints and making passes, short of grabbing me and planting her lips right on mine.

Although I didn’t notice a single thing, my friends did. From girls and guys alike, I would get fed all sorts of gossip. Half the time I didn’t believe what I heard, since I hadn’t seen or heard it myself. They would tell me that certain girls were giving me furtive glances, with the occasional longing stare mixed in. I always questioned these “reports” since I’ve never spoken with most of these girls before in my life.

Out of the many names that went in one ear and out the other, one of them stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t sure of the validity of my buddy’s claim, but it wouldn’t hurt to find out.

From the many names that filtered through my porous skull, there was this one particular girl that piqued my interest.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22.

That last year of middle school started with a sharp clanging of the brass alarm bells, which had been my constant chaperones during the previous 2 years. But this time that familiar ring was a little bit duller and there was a pervasive bittersweet undertone that seemed to signify the beginning of an end of an era.

To everyone else’s ears, that sound indicated the end of a school day, but to me those bells told a different story. It was a tale of outward growth and the methodic end of my period as a child. I had just turned 13; I was now a teenager.

Soo-Min was gone but we still kept in touch. It was hard on both of us since we were more than 200 miles apart. The hardest part about it all was how I felt about this girl. Granted, we were barely into our teen years and had very little understanding about what love was all about, but we just knew how we felt for each other. I had only known her a little over a year, but there was such a strong emotional connection that I had never known before.

Our exchanges became less frequent as time rolled along. The schedules that bound our hands were increasing the gap that we knew was already there. We were both growing in many different ways and there was nothing we could do to change that fact. We just had to accept and understand that this was how life was meant to be.

We talked and wrote whenever we could, but it seemed strained. Neither of us had the financial means to sustain a relationship and we both knew it. I remember the gifts that I would get in the mail, gifts that she made, along with pictures whenever she took new ones, as if she was afraid that I’d forget her face.

I knew in my heart of hearts that I’d never be able to forget her and you know what?

I never have.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Even though our time together was short, it was well spent. I shall always remember her because she was the first one to open my heart up to the real possibilities of real love. Looking back, I’m not sure if I was in love with her or not, but it sure felt like it. I loved her very much. And that’s what I’ll always believe.

There is no regret in my heart for falling as hard as I did for this girl. In fact, I feel honored and special that I was able to experience something like that, albeit for a finite amount of time. After she left, she took a piece of me with her that could never be replaced, but in its stead, she left behind a better [little]man and I thank her for that. Though it was an experience that was full of ups and downs, I would do it all over again, if I could.

Thank you Soo-Min for taking the time to sit with me on that truculent roller-coaster ride. Thanks for simply being there, thus helping me understand and mature in ways that I wouldn’t have for years to come. (not that I’m even remotely mature at this point in time) I’m not sure where I’d be right now without your influence. I’ll always love you and for all that you did for me.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.

Before I knew it, I could feel wet droplets silently cascading from those iridescent wells that I had grown to love. She started crying as the sadness finally consumed her and there was nothing I could do to stop the tears from rolling down her beautiful face. We had tried to fight these melancholy feelings for some time now, and they finally won. She wept for over an hour and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I felt horrid as I held her close, trying desperately to reassure and comfort her.

We sat there on the couch huddled together in the early morning sunshine that peeked through the bay window. She had stopped crying by then, her legs laying on top of mine, with her head against my chest and arms wrapped around my neck. I held her, arms wrapped around her lithe waist, never wishing to let her go, but knew that it was time.

With one last thorough check of the house, her family filed outside and readied the car for travel. We stood there, quiet and anxious. She turned toward me and started to sniffle again. Gathering her up in my arms, I hugged her tight, as if my physical strength could somehow carry her emotional burden for the rest of eternity.

“I’ll never say good-bye. This is simply a ’see you later’, ok? We’ll talk and write each other letters. Things will be ok, I promise.”

She looked up at me and nodded silently, tears streaming down her face once more. Grabbing a handkerchief out of my pocket, I dabbed her eyes and slowly wiped up the tears glistening on her cheeks. I went to put the handkerchief back into my pocket, but she stopped me by holding my hand in hers.

“May I keep it, please? I have lots of things of our time together, but I’d like to keep something from our last day together. And here, keep this to remember me too.”

She let go of me and unhooked a thin silver necklace from around her neck and slipped it around my own. Hanging from the thin silver chain was a small silver heart. It was the same necklace that I saw around her neck the very first time I laid eyes on her. She stepped back and tilted her head to critique how it looked. She giggled and shook her head.

“No, that doesn’t look like you at all.”

I stuck out my tongue at her and smirked.

“Yeah, I suppose it doesn’t. You were always the much prettier one.”

I walked her to the car, opened her door and helped her get seated. I checked to see if her arm and leg were in the way, then closed the door. I bid her parents and sister farewell and stepped back out of the car’s path. It started up and the gears engaged, slowly rolling the car back out of the driveway. Turning left, the car seemed to glide down the street; from this life and into the next.

Before she could get out of earshot, she looked out of the window back at me, waving and shouted, “I’ll call you! I promise I will!” I smiled, shouting back, “And I’ll call you too!” I waved to the retreating car that was slowly putting more and more distance between my heart and my other half.

A light early-fall breeze blew through my hair, sending a shiver down my spine and a wistful longing through my heart. A single tear slid out of the corner of my right eye and rolled down the contours of my cheek. Sniffling loudly and wiping it away, I turned and walked slowly home; all the while lightly tugging at the chain around my neck.

For some reason, I had a sinking feeling that this chapter of my life was effectively over.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10.