Teachers words are echoes. I’m not daydreaming, just thinking of her.
Her locker is three over. She says hi, my ears flush red and my throat goes dry. How can I get her number? If I had it, what would I say?
Hugging a pillow at night thinking of her. Summer has come, Will she be picking? Rainy day, sitting in a tree, berry stained hands gripping a pocket knife, carving our initials.
Written for Thin Spiral Notebook 100 Word Challenge