A Revolving Memory

For reasons I don’t understand, a memory keeps popping up in my head.

It was 16 years ago, I’d guess. Probably around this time of year. We were wearing jeans, she was wearing a pink sweater, I’m pretty sure. She wore it often. I liked it.

We were in the library’s workroom; it was a long, narrow room off the library. It had some counter space, the equipment for The Wednesday Whammy, and some other odds and ends. Just a closet really. I don’t even know why we there or why we weren’t in class or really even what time of day it was.

I don’t remember what we were talking about. I was most likely flirting with her, or trying to.

The crush was strong, and when I look back, I think it might’ve been mutual. I was too afraid of rejection though and never tried to make our friendship anything more. I should have. I look back on my youth and regret not taking chances for fear of heartbreak. I wanted to take her to prom that year, but someone beat me to asking, I took her best friend instead.

I was playing with a stapler to, subconsciously, help ease the nervous energy. I ended up sending a staple into my index finger.

She laughed.

I laughed and said something like “that hurt, hug me!”

and she did.

And I’ll never forget that embrace.

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