"Good morning beautiful," is what he would say to me

At the beginning of every French class

And stand in the doorway waiting for my arrival

Every French class




We were fourteen back then

And like any fourteen-year-old girl

I'd roll my eyes at him to show him I didn't care



But I did



And I would smile as soon as he wasn't looking





Last  year of high school came

And I sat in my Religion class listening to the morning announcements



There had been a terrible car accident on the road

Everyone in the vehicle died




I can't remember now if Matt was the passenger or driver

All I understood was that the popular and cute kid I had in my grade 9 French class had passed away



I felt sad. Sure.

But it would take years,

for the gravity of the situation to finally sink in



The boy  who'd always stand at the front door, welcoming me to French class

and call me beautiful

was now dead