Gallivant

In my youth I was what you could call, well, misunderstood. Black clothes, black shoes, black hair, black lipstick. You know—the works. I was your typical emo-rocker wannabe. I was dominated by angst, and dwelled on my tragic past. Sorrow consumed the lake of my soul, drowning me, suffocating me, until it was almost too much bear. Then suddenly there came a light into my world, which had before been painted in shades of gray. She brought color and fun and love. Good times! Happiness! Smiles! Nini. Nini with her playstation and her apples and her bacon and her filthy bear. Nini with her Legolas stand-up figure and her ugly Gimli poster and her 80 year old unopened collector gummis. Nini you were my first friend. You saved me from the darkness. Two thumbs up for you.

It was a sunny day in April. Windy, full of hope. The flags rushed side to side on their poles, thrashing and stuck.

I observed their movement through the window of the biology room. It stank of the innards of sharks and cats, torn down to the bone and discarded. The orange de-greaser did nothing to mask the fumes.

I was alone. But not for long—soon, she appeared. I was taken aback, as her 80s aerobic outfit vividly stood out against the rest of the cold, dark world. She posed; my camera flashed. But soon she would be gone, to Russia, and I to Spain. I CRY ALONE AT NIGHT

WONDERING WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.