They used to have a routine
The two of them
Every day at ten past one PM
They’d sit in the fourth row
Of the classroom
Side by side
She’d listen attentively
To the teacher’s lecture
And he’d wander through his
Thoughts; listening to his mind
His massive arm would drape
Over her petite frame
Her dark corkscrewed hair would surge
Till it lay atop his free hand; a color contrast
But the routine changed
As did some feelings
Everyday at ten past one PM
She’d sit in the fourth row
Of the classroom
All alone
She’d listen attentively
To the teacher’s lecture
I would slowly work up the nerve
To slide into the lone seat beside her
Her dark corkscrewed hair surged
Till it whipped around as she could see
That is was me
That I was not him
…
She smiled