Their meeting, the way they collided, like tiny molecules bursting into a new substance. Papers scattered, books spewed and pens and erasures hopelessly lost in the throng of people around them.
Before even a Sorry, or some other apologetic word could slip out of her lips, she found a hand stretched out before her, arm bare, up to the rolled up green sleeve.
Green? Had she liked the color then?
What was it, exactly, that she saw in those eyes that day?
Lust? The sexual hunger that drove all boys their age, depriving them of reason, rational thinking and replacing it with fantasies that stole the heart and mind? Though that wasn't fair of her, hadn't she, not long ago, felt such an urge?
No, they were too bright, too set forward.
Was it arrogance then? The youth, spoon fed by Mama and Papa? Protected by cracked doors with the hallway light, sweet words and a hand to hold when he was crying?
Wrong yet again. Holding his gaze a second long