May 26, 2004

• At 14

  
  

  Here's something from page two:

  
  

   

  
  

  As the song finished and I pushed the stop button, you removed the headphones from my ears, and stared at me and I stared at you but not at your eyes.  You dropped onto one knee and held my fingers.  You were wearing Levis and a dark green, ribbed sweater, charcoal boots.  I noticed that one of your shoelaces was untied so I followed the black curve on the shadowed gray with my eyes.  You finally asked Will you be my girl?  And I just nodded because I was too busy thinking about how romantic it was to have been asked to be someone’s girl by a boy on one knee.  It was two-forty-two a.m. and there was a silver dollar in my pocket—the dollar you wanted to lose to me because it was made in 1979, the year you were born.  You were big on things like that, symbols and signs, so I was, too.

  
  

   

  
  

  and something from page 4:

  
  

   

  
  

  This was how I met you:  Anne had given me your pager number; she’s still my best friend, but she’s not your friend anymore even though you knew her first.  One night I felt brave and sent you some messages:  Hi-this-is-Anne’s-friend and To-be-fair-here-is-my-pager-number.  You messaged me back that night.  I was sitting on my bed and the pager was sitting on top of my television when it started spinning from the vibrations and I felt the rush in my chest and I picked it up and pushed the button to read what you—I knew it was you—had sent me.

  
  

   

  
  

   

  • 3:29 am
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