a fortiori

...Chapter 1...

When I was younger, I grew up next to a boy named Cole.

       His name described him perfectly. His hair was jet black and his eyes were dark brown. His wardrobe fit this description as well. His skin looked smooth and so flawless. At times, I wished I could touch it with my freezing hands. Hands that were hidden. Just like me. Most days he would sit on his back deck writing music or listening to it. For days on end I watched him and he never knew.
       Then one day Cole  came home with a girl, she looks like a doll. Her hair sat just above her shoulders. She was ditzy and had every piercing one could possibly think of. She looked 16, just like Cole, just like me. They both took a seat on his back deck as I watch them talking, kissing. Then his hand moved to her leg. One thing led to another and I had to turn my glassy eyes away. That was until I heard a shot gun. I looked up and Coles dad was standing there dragging Cole by his collar back inside his house. The girl never to be seen back there again.
     Yet the problem with that was that I never saw Cole again.
    I never saw him writing music or singing to himself.
    Never heard him yelling at his dad or his dad yelling at him.
      As much as I missed him I knew his beautiful structure occupied my time too much. Yet what other productive thing did I have to do?
I was so limited to this space I call a home that I didn't realize how little I accomplished in life. For I didn't know how long I had left until I couldn't even accomplish stalking Cole.
      I sat at my desk, attempting to do something productive for once. Attempting to write a song like Cole or sing like Cole.
Nothing.
      No one could hypnotize the birds like he could. No one could make a teacher swoon to their aid like he could.
     No one could make me smile the way Cole could.