At other times she feels so angry about him. Gosh, she has even cried over him, cursing him into oblivion for having stirred such feelings in her and then suddenly leave her life for good as if none of it mattered; even wishing she’d never met him and at the same time eternally grateful to him for having given her such an experience to live on for the rest of her life.

Who is this boy to give her such troubling mind and heart and body? Who does he think he is?! To come into a girl’s life like that, forming such a strong connection between them (wasn’t it?!), and then walk out like that, knowing that this is most likely the last time they’ll ever see each other, then calling her name out loud at the top of the stairs as she walks down, calling it out with that knowing smirk and that special tone full of loving mockery, drawing it out, that glimmer in his eye and she looks back up over her shoulder surprised, yet pleased that her name was the last one he called out; like that, as if he’s silently saying he’d miss her; that he would miss calling her out like that; miss their good-hearted bantering that left the need for more, yet not all the time. It was just there. And in that moment he tells her that he always knew she knew it and so did she. Somehow, though they never said it out loud. But maybe that was the magic between them, that special connection one so rarely finds with another human being, a stranger, yet a friend. A soulmate not destined to be.

The irony of having her name called – after all the bashing, the mocking, the misunderstanding, the mispronunciation, the duplicitous teasing of it at her expense, making her ashamed and sad for so long – hearing it, for the first time in her life, so intimately, so well-meaning, so knowingly called; its meaning and significance only intimately shared, she selfishly took it into her open arms and heart, basking in its bliss and remembrance. It was his ambiguous farewell and his ‘Auf Wiedersehen’; his affection (however short-lived) and his ‘good wishing for the future’-salute. With a last look of the glint in his eye and smirk on his lips, like a secret only they shared, she returned the smile, turned around and went into the world a little more changed.

Sometimes she thinks it’s a dream. That it’s too good to be true and that it easily could have been something she made up in her mind as usual (she’s pretty good at that). It doesn’t seem real but like something out of a cheesy movie (or cute or deep movie, depending how you look at it). Just look at those times where no one else was around…just the two of them! Sometimes she is truly afraid she imagined more than what really happened; scenes and moments and gestures that didn’t happen but which have gradually – and naturally – found their way in between the memories and settled into her emotions, filled out the questions and the unanswered feelings and given her satisfaction and comfort. How could this not be natural for a lonely girl to do and feel?! Is she wrong even if she has imagined it all?!


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