You and I are sprawled on the floor in the middle of the school corridor after hours, laughing. You say you’ve always known I was too good for this place, I say I don’t know what you mean. Of course I do. Of course I’m going to stay, of course I won’t leave you here alone. You and I are fighting over an earbud, it doesn’t even make sense, you can just take the left one cause you’re sitting on my right, I don’t even care. We listen to my music and you say you like my taste and I don’t tell you that you’re literally the only person to ever hear the songs on my playlist. You lay your head on my shoulder and my heart wants to stop beating. Of course it doesn’t. Of course I only chuckle and play another song. You and I are on the phone, have been for the last couple of hours. You’re telling me all about her laugh and her hair and how she makes you feel things. You ask if I’ve ever felt these things and I say I have and when you ask who it was I say another name. Of course it’s not you. Of course I made it up. You and her are inseparable now, you waving at me with a free hand while your other hand is holding hers. I wave back with a smile and I can’t even look down to the floor because it’s the the same damn corridor and everything here may just as well have your name painted on it. You ask me if I’m leaving. Of course I don’t. Of course it’s a lie. I am here and you are not. I don’t even know where you are, honestly, and I am okay, and my new school is so great and I get to do all the things I wanted to do forever. My friend asks me if I still think about you. Of course I do. I am all grown-up and so are you, I know, somewhere out there. I am writing about him now and not about you, I haven’t looked at any of your social media in months and I’m not even sure you would recognize me if you saw me on the street because my hair is darker and I’m so tall and you can only have the memories of the little girl I once was. But if anyone asks me if I remember first love, I say I do. Of course I do. Of course I still do. And I think I always will.
a.b., A story inspired by a memory // for this Yeah Write’s prompt.
