Us Against The World (Epistolary)

one.

I saw her again today.

I saw Asherah Jamille smiling and waving happily to almost everyone she passes by. I wouldn't exactly call her prominent nor very well-known, but I guess you can say that with all the friends she has. Makes me wonder, does she know if all her friends are true?

I often see her walking alone in the hallways, a bright aura around her, like she's someone you can easily rely on. Someone you'd want to be friends with, someone true, someone you can rant to, someone you can share your problems with and she'd never judge you, someone who can laugh even at your simplest jokes, someone who would accept you for who you are, someone you won't be ashamed to show your true self with.

Her long brunette hair dances with her as she walks, those high cheekbones accentuating her features more, her perfect smile- the kind that makes you want to wish she was your girlfriend to make her smile like that all the time, to be the reason why she keeps smiling, to make sure she never sheds a single tear because of you.

She was never the prettiest on campus, that's for sure. If she didn't have a lot of friends, I'm sure she'd stay hidden in a corner, not being minded by everyone else. She'd work alone at the library and pass all her works before the due date, the kind you won't invite to parties because all she has in front of her are books.

At least that's how I think of her. 

The bell rang, signaling the end of the break. I saw her waving bye to her friends before walking back to our classroom.

I have to go back too.

—

The thing about Asherah, is that she's actually mysterious.

People would wish to be like her. Someone so positive. Someone who can smile brightly all the time. Someone others idolize. Someone you'd never think has her own problems. Someone to always laugh with. Someone who probably never overthinks, or has anxiety, or has no worries at all.

Word spread during our 2nd year in college. Her mom died. No one knows where her dad is. No one knows where her relatives are.

I know. I know her.

But she pretends to not know me.

Yet two weeks after being away to tend to her mother, she came back.

And smiled. Smiled to everyone she saw, smiled to her friends who showed sadness in their eyes, smiled to the teachers who showed a sympathetic smile, and smiled to her boyfriend who never left her side.

Interesting.

I heard her in class being asked, "Don't you weep for your mother? Did you never care about her? Aren't you supposed to be sad?"

I looked at her side by the window when she was asked, and all she answered was a shrug and a smile.

Another smile.

I love that smile.