My Stream of Consciousness - 1

Story Short

I don't remember when I fell for her.

Maybe it was in eighth grade, when I saw her for the first time in my Drama class. We were re-enacting a part of Romeo and Juliet, and she was put up as Juliet with a boy named Adam.

She was magnetic; she drew everyone's eyes to her with her bubbly personality and charismatic charm. I was not one of the people who flocked to her like moths to a light when she walked down the hall or stopped for lunch, but instead I watched from the sidelines, observing her actions and how her crowd agreed with her every word.

I hadn't even known I liked the colour purple until I saw her walk into school with her hair dyed lilac.

Maybe it was in college, when I quite literally bumped into her on the way to my class, that one touch sent a spark of electricity through me, but it faded quickly when I dropped my thick Art binder on my foot. She helped me pick it up and apologized profusely, and I just waved my hand and told her it was okay. We didn't talk after that until I saw her studying alone in a coffee shop. I sat with her for hours, helping her with her sciences, and I had left only when my brother showed up to find me.

I don't remember when I fell for her.

But that spark I felt when I saw her for the first time in eighth grade...