A Time I met a Girl

For Zoila...

I remember a time when things were as platonic as they could get.  No ulterior motives, no plans, no distractions.  We were in our [insert period # here] High School Chemistry class.  Surrounded by erlenmeyer flasks, dusty test tubes and a periodic table chart that hung crookedly on the dull green, paint chipped wall.  It was always comfortable to be around each-other.  Maybe it was the Dominican connection or how the orbits we traveled in overlapped here and there, but regardless of not being much more than a high & bye relationship when we bumped into each-other in the halls...in that classroom, we were inseparable.  Connected to one another like magnets.  We would speak more during those 55 minutes than even Mr. Nachman would.  He hated that so much.  Always interrupting our conversations.  The nerve!

Boy did we make each-other laugh.  I never genuinely laughed so much at nothing in particular.  It was akin to the symbiotic-type relationship between a Comic and a room he/she is killing.  Bit after bit.  Any uttered word from either of us would make us both crack up as if it were the funniest thing ever.  How carefree we were.  It's funny because I didn't necessarily even think about looking forward to seeing you, until I was leaving the gym class I had the period before Chemistry.  I'm sure that when the mini-epiphany's hit me, the endorphin releasing smiles were ear-to-ear.  But on days that you were out...ni se diga.  All I was left with was an empty swiveling bar stool to my left, and Mr. Nachmans two-sizes-too-tight jeans.  I wonder if my absences made your heart grow fonder too.

~ Thursday 2.27.14 @ 12:16am