Sometimes talking to him could be rather difficult to say the least. A grunt, a nod, a flicker of pale mint eyes
Sometimes I doubted he even heard half of what ever came out of my mouth. Today was different from the others though; in the afternoon blanketed by the grey cold of winter, we blew hot breath into the palms of our hands in feeble attempts to stay warm.
The bus was late again.
I stared at the redhead that rarely acknowledged me; we'd been standing in this same spot since freshmen year, every day after school. My mouth would run and his lips would merely purse, my legs couldn't stand still while his seemed fossilized into the dead grass.
Four years ago, in middle school, for those three miserable years, we still stood stock still, beside each other still.
From the blazing summer afternoons to the dry lung-burning winters, he never spoke, never even glancing at me, never acknowledging
Back then I'd hardly bothered speaking to him at all.
Turning back t