She's walking down the hall towards me, pushing her clipboard against an
Idontwanttoknow how soft
pink sweater. Big smile. I smile back, it's the least I can do, for the least she can give me.
It's like this a lot. In between classes, at the dining hall. We interact, we move in the same circles and we are in the same area code of friends. Often we will talk to each about family and dating, in the abstract- as if she were talking about this girl she knows, or I am talking about a guy that I knew from Richmond. So, its like that-detached and second hand. Sometimes she sits next to me in the library or on a crowded bench and we are (for me) uncomfortably close.
I can smell her hairspray, her perfume and her cheap mints. I notice imperfections in her mascara (just a smudge off ) and I wonder if she notices me staring, cataloging this data.
One day, while walking around a portable circus that had come for a weekend, we stood in line at a carousel. We got on and chased each other around horseback. Later, she asked if I had
reached for it .
Reached for what? , I asked.
The brass ring, You goof!
----- she laughed at my expression. (Which must have been perplexed)
Nope, I don't want to fail that often.
Liar , she said as she walked away.
Well, I guess she knows after all.