SAVED

MONDAY LONGINGS

Monday afternoon rolled around with the dreary predictability of a forgotten chore. The bell's clang echoed through the school halls, a stark reminder that the weekend's reprieve had ended. I slid into my seat just as Miss Kim, a young, vibrant teacher, began her lecture on the Romantic poets. She had a way of speaking that made the words dance in the air, as if they'd been plucked from the very pages she held. Her eyes, alight with passion, swept across the room, and for a moment, I thought she saw me. But no, she couldn't have.

Mina, my ever-persistent best friend, gave me a nudge with her elbow. She leaned over, whispering, "You're staring again," with a knowing smile. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she waited for me to react. I couldn't help the blush that came to my face. Did she really think it was that obvious? Did everyone else in the class see my heart hammering against my ribcage like a caged bird? I swallowed hard, hoping my cheeks weren't flaming red, and forced myself to focus on the lesson. But even as Miss Kim spoke of Byron and Shelley, my thoughts kept drifting back to her—her gentle smile, the way she'd tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the curve of her cheek when she was lost in thought.

As the class droned on, the weight of my secret grew heavier. Miss Kim was more than just a pretty face; she was a fountain of knowledge that I craved to dip into, to understand the world through her eyes. Yet, every time I tried to engage in the discussion, my voice would falter, my mind racing with the 'what ifs'. What if she knew? What if she felt the same way? The very thought sent a tremor down my spine.

The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes, each second a tiny knife slicing through the tension in the room. When the bell finally rang, the class erupted into the usual chatter of packing up books and sharing plans for the evening. Mina grabbed her bag and turned to me, her eyes gleaming. "You know you can't keep this from me forever, right?" she said, her voice low so only I could hear. "Who is she?''

The question hung in the air, thick and unavoidable. I knew I couldn't keep dodging her forever. But confessing my feelings for Miss Kim was like opening a Pandora's box that I wasn't sure I wanted to deal with. I took a deep breath and followed her out of the classroom, the words I hadn't yet spoken forming a tight knot in my throat. The hallways were a blur of faces and footsteps as we made our way to our next class, but all I could see was Miss Kim's smile, lingering like a ghost from a past I hadn't lived.

The rest of the day passed in a daze. I went through the motions, my mind a whirlwind of poetry and unspoken confessions. After school, we found ourselves walking home together under the golden glow of the setting sun. Mina, ever the persistent one, prodded me for an answer. I hesitated, kicking a loose pebble down the sidewalk. "It's Miss Kim," I finally admitted, my voice barely above a murmur.

Mina halted, her eyes growing wide with astonishment. "Our English teacher?" she blurted out, her voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of laughter. She remained silent then, her gaze fixed on me, anticipating more details. As the sun dipped lower, painting shadows around us, I opened up about my emotions, crafting a narrative of respect and longing that had been simmering inside me for weeks. My words tumbled forth, earnest and exposed, like secrets shared beside a flickering campfire.

Her laughter, when it came, was unexpected. "You know it's against school policy, right?" she said, a grin spreading across her face. But her tone was gentle, not mocking. "And she's, like, ten years older than us!"

I nodded, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. "I know," I murmured. "But I can't help it."

Mina squeezed my arm, her expression softening. "Well," she said, "you can't just ignore it, can you?"

I looked at her, unsure of what to say next. The silence stretched out between us like a tightrope, and suddenly, the world felt smaller, the future a tangled web of decisions and consequences.

"You're right," I said, feeling the weight of her words. "But what do I do?"

Mina shrugged. "I don't know, but you can't just stew in it. Let's go to my grandpa's store. Maybe working will take your mind off things."

Her grandfather's store was a quaint little bookshop nestled in the heart of town. It was a place where the scent of aged paper and the whispers of forgotten stories greeted us like old friends every time we stepped through the creaky door. We'd been helping out there after school for extra cash, and it was the one place where I could almost forget about Miss Kim. Almost.

As we sorted through dusty tomes and arranged them on the shelves, I found myself lost in the rhythm of the task, the steady beat of the old cash register in the background a comforting white noise. But every time I looked up, I'd catch myself scanning the shelves for the books Miss Kim had mentioned in class. The Romantics, the Victorians, the Modernists—each one a gateway to the conversations we could never have.

Mina, sensing my restlessness, handed me a battered copy of "Frankenstein." "You should read this," she said with a wink. "Might give you some insight into your... situation."

I couldn't help but laugh. It felt good to laugh, like a release valve had been turned. "Maybe it will," I said, taking the book. The cover was worn, the pages yellowed, but the story inside remained as potent as ever.

As we worked side by side, customers came and went, the bell chiming cheerfully with each entrance. An older woman with a knowing smile bought a collection of Shakespeare's sonnets, and for a moment, I felt a kinship with her. We were both chasing after love, in our own ways.

The sun had set, and the streetlights flickered to life outside when Mina's grandfather called us over to the counter. "Girls," he said, his eyes twinkling, "you've done enough for today." He handed us our pay and a knowing look. "You've earned an early night off."

Mina raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Why?" she asked.

He just winked. "You youngsters still have school tomorrow."

With the money in my pocket, I felt a sudden thrill of possibility. Maybe, just maybe, I could find the courage to confront my feelings, to see if they were reciprocated. Or maybe I'd use it to buy a book that Miss Kim had recommended, a silent declaration of my admiration.

As we locked up and stepped into the cool evening air, Mina gave me a nudge. "So?" she asked, her eyes searching mine.

"So what?" I replied, trying to keep my voice casual.

"So, are you going to do something about it?"

I took a deep breath, the scent of autumn leaves and the distant sound of children playing tag in the park mixing with the ink and paper of the bookstore. "I don't know," I said, the words feeling like a confession. "But I can't ignore it anymore."

The night stretched out before us, full of unanswered questions and the whispers of a thousand stories, each one as complex and beautiful as the woman who had unwittingly captured my heart. I knew I had to act, had to find a way to navigate this labyrinth of feelings and societal norms. And as we turned the corner, the light from the bookstore's window casting long shadows behind us, I made a silent vow to myself. I would find a way to tell Miss Kim how I felt, even if it meant risking everything. Because sometimes, the greatest stories are born from the most unlikely of beginnings.