Literature
Time of Your Life
We had been fifteen when I first met him. He had been sitting in the courtyard of the high school, face wide with a smile, and foot tapping to an invisible beat. He had been so unlike me, he was so exuberant, and wore his heart on his sleeve
while I was just plain, my hair side swept into my face, covering one of my eyes, and I was expressionless. There was no way we could have gotten along, he was sun, I was darkness
and yet, here we are today, in the hospital, me crying silently over his dead body
but I'm getting ahead of myself.
He had looked up then, on that fateful day, he had caught my eye, and that large grin had go