Her locker is near mine. I realized this one morning as I tried to rummage for my French things. I needed to finish the unrelenting assignment, I'd been working on it since four the previous afternoon, and was no closer to finishing it then than I was now.
I closed my eyes, and exhaled, my breath appearing on the mirror I got for taking a survey about my (non-existent) tobacco use. I pulled my small, red dictionary out of the upper compartment of my locker, slipping it's French-filled goodness into my bag, I glanced down the hallway. I have to do this from time to time, because my friend Erich has this odd habit of sneaking up behind me. Luckily, his locker was unoccupied. As I turned my head back, I noticed something I'd never noticed before. There she was again.
I could feel something rise onto my face, it was like a warm cup of tea had been dumped on my head. I could feel my face tingling as I looked at this girl, my dictionary clutched in my hand. I wondered how red my face was, as I quickly deposited the rest of the books that I was not going to use into my locker. I turned on my heal, a walked back down the hallway, away from that beautiful girl.
This became a common place occurrence, until I became used to watching her silently, so much so that I learned to not allow my face to grow red when I looked at her. I began to learn her schedule, and I kept my ears open for a name. I wanted, for whatever reason, to connect a name with the face. Who was this girl who had swept me off my feet?
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