when I go to my locker, pull out a notebook, wait around a while and eventually put it back in?
I almost hope that someone does, because I'll bet it's pretty ridiculous to observe. Almost as absurd as you trying to not look like you're waiting in the crowded hallway. Turned around, hesitant at first, your words rinsed, chopped, and tossed together. There is no superficial, at least, none that's working. I see you, you see me. We're on the same page. We don't want sunsets or romance or exclusivity. You keep your left socks separate from your right ones; you never pair off. Brilliant. There's nothing striking in your eyes, and there are no sparks from your hands which have rarely touched mine. What is striking is the conversation we create while everyone around is listening in the hall where I pretend to need a notebook.
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