Letters To Ida

one

To Ida,

The first time I noticed you, I was minding my own business, doing my homework like the good student I was when I heard the rustle of a package. I glanced up for a moment, gladly welcoming any distraction to that chemistry worksheet.

My eyes landed on you, three tables away from mine. In the back of the library by yourself. The crinkling noise that proved to be much more interesting than my homework was actually a bag of Sour Patch Kids.

There was a book sitting next to you on the striped cushion of your chair. You picked it up and you started to read.

Every once in a while, your hand you reach into the bag of candy and grab a handful of the candy. You would tip your head back and let them fall into your mouth one by one. I don't know how you didn't pucker your lips every time you popped the candy into mouth.

Maybe you were just used to sour things.

You sat there and read your book, your eyes flitting across the worn pages of ink and I sat there and watched you read your book, my eyes studying your facial expressions, and the world was at peace and everyone was happy.

But then your hands began to shake and lips began to quiver. Your hazel eyes grew about three sizes and filled up with the salty tears that ran down your face just moments after.

I almost asked you what was wrong, until I noticed your eyes were still flitting, almost frantically across the page of your book. A book? A book had made you cry? Nothing I had ever read had moved me to to the point of tears. So what was so special about this book that it would make you cry?

Not long after after you calmed down, you glanced in my direction. Like the coward I was, I diverted my gaze to the half completed chemistry worksheet still in front of me. There were random marks from where the pen had fallen lax in my hand and danced on the page while I had sat there unaware and oblivious of it. I snuck a look back in your direction, only to see that you had closed your book and were gathering your things.

You rolled up what was left of your Sour Patch Kids, and shoved them into a navy blue backpack that had been resting at your side. The letters I-D-A were etched into the fabric on the back.

You pulled on your gray sweatshirt and adjusted your jeans when you stood up. After slipping on your backpack, you grabbed your book off the table. The one that is so special that it made you cry. Your burgundy sneakers slapped the floor as you shuffled over to the second bookshelf on the left. You put the book next to two others that looked just like it, and quickly walked out of the library. The door slammed shut and your sandy blond hair blew into your face as you rounded the corner.

I stared at the door for a moment after you left. Then my eyes caught the bookshelf that you had placed the book on.

I checked out the book you were reading. And guess what? I cried a little bit too.

From, Rio

[ dedicated to @decadently for the incredibly beautiful cover. Thank you so much.]