When I was in Junior High School, I scribbled this list of 11 Signs to Know if He's the One at the back page of my ESP notebook. A guy who looks good with his bangs brushed down, has a good sense of humor, is straightforward, taller than me, generous, childish but matured when needed, has a cool voice, smart (but I have to be smarter than him, of course), smells good so I can lean on his shoulder anytime, and the last two were more difficult to observe.
I was stuck on believing in its magic until I graduated, but everyone I've met for the next five years were just almost close to everything I've written, for none of them matches the last two and most important signs.
"Aries!"
I looked over my left shoulder only to see him again walking towards me.
"Why do I always see you at the hallway?" he asked jokingly although we both knew that our classroom's just next to theirs. I just laughed a little and didn't respond more.
Tenth sign, check.
"By the way..." I called out.
I looked at him once again and my heart skipped a beat. He's looking intently at my eyes, something he usually does when he's about to ask another crazy question. But this time, it is me who's about to do it.
"I..."
"Wait, may I borrow your umbrella again?" He asked me out of a sudden. That's when I realized that it was raining hard.
"Oy, Sam!" He shouted from the third floor where we are, unaware that he'll be heard even in the faculty room at the first floor.
"... I'll get going," I continued although I think he didn't hear it. He dashed down the stairs and now towards the school gate.
Just before I was about to enter our classroom again, I saw a glimpse of his faraway figure running under the rain while holding my umbrella— towards the girl of his dreams.
"11th sign: He'll share his umbrella with me when it rains."
He's almost perfect for my list, although the eleventh sign seemed to be impossible to be crossed out because he's doing it for someone else already.
Perhaps, that's the sign.
— Aries Writes
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Wrong Person, Write Love.
PoetryA compilation of 100 Haiku poems and 50 proses written for the wrong person.
