August 1st, 2017
After seeing your photo, I avoided the newsstand I loved so much for a week.
I didn’t even mean to look at you in the first place. I was passing through, and the picture just slipped by. It wasn’t the first time I saw it either; it lingered in the press for a couple of days. It just took me until then to scan it, and find the two identical numbers that signified it as being you.
It’s funny; you looked exactly how I imagined you. You had pale skin, dark eyes, and a slim, but not elongated, face. I’m sure if I looked a little harder, I could have found a couple of strands of deep brown hair on your head, too. By the point I acknowledged your features, however, I ran away from your photo and shut my eyes.
Closed off from seeing the world, I took a moment to breathe. As I sat in silence, I felt the general rush of heat that I felt upon discovering these types of things. It wasn’t attraction, I could never be attracted to someone like you, but it caused some sort of emotion. It was as if I didn’t want to know, but now I had to live with the information for the rest of my life anyway.
I honestly did wish your smiling face, looking up towards the sky, wasn’t stuck in my mind, but despite my wishes, it was. And with it being in my head, came the understanding of how it was so easy to forget where you’ve been in summers like these. I understood why some my age fawned over you, and while I’d like to admit I didn’t do so, your persistence in staying in my thoughts told me otherwise, even if it wasn’t the least bit romantic.