An Interesting Love

Will I see fame?

Word count: 2,283

My bedroom shares the bathroom with my kitchen, but I got a nice queen-sized bed. I'm not complaining because I know that I'm going to spend the majority of my time outside of my apartment. However, if I do make some more friends, I may invite them over for a card game or something of that sort. I could invite Henry over. I can see his name written out in my mind and I fawn over each letter. H for his luscious hair, bouncing with every step he takes; E for every sweet word he speaks; N is for never letting our conversation die; R is for the range of emotions I've felt since introducing ourselves; Y is for why am I feeling so much so quickly. I mean, what are the chances of this happening? Someone very attractive actually introduces themselves to me and sits down with me, a total stranger, to share a meal. This never happens in real life. I think. Maybe I just have no experience in the outside world.

I'm all ready for my day. I bought some fruit the day before yesterday and ate a kiwi and banana for breakfast. I'm still very hungry but I don't think I'll have time to get to the dining hall before work. I have my clothes laid out and I've washed my hair. Everything is moving smoothly. I go to sit down on the side of my bed and pull my scissors out of my drawer. I wipe down my right thigh and the scissors with an antibacterial wipe. Then I cut some lines in my skin. I go deeper as the line drags on and try to draw as much blood as I can. This is just routine. Once the bleeding stops, I pull up my long skirt and throw a white t-shirt over my head. I grab my backpack and head out the door.

The air boils my skin and I can feel the hairs on my head rise with the humidity, but I still walk quickly because I am a few minutes later than expected. I get to the office and share the elevator with Michael.

"Hey, Charlotte, how are you? Sweaty?"

"Yup, but still good. Today's theme is fame and I've got an idea for a poem. How are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm doing well, got a good amount of sleep, very excited to discuss finance with Brian today. Have you met Brian? He's from Bowdoin, great guy."

"I have not, I haven't really traveled further than my own block in the office."

"You're not going to meet anybody that way!" He states.

"Well, actually the craziest thing happened last night—"

I am cut off by the elevator door opening and Michael stepping out before me. He tells me to have a good day, very shyly. I tell him the same thing and walk to my desk. I am very focused today and push out four poems along with two analyses for my co-worker. One poem was very short, but I think it was my most complex:

I'd never felt the glamor

Of his crucifix and pearls

Until I saw yellow armor

And over the sea— swirls.

It's about the experience of watching a sunset and sharing the glory of your famous partner. I see gold in the sky and compare it to the gold around his neck. Henry was wearing a small gold ring. That was in my mind when I wrote this poem. I can't get my mind off of him. When he looked into my eyes, I felt overwhelmed. I've only had that experience once before with a girl in freshman year. Nothing came of that look, but I loved her. I shouldn't speak of love, I just met this guy. But he initiated the meeting. He saw me and wanted to talk to me. To eat with me. This is just insane to me. I should text him. Should I call him? He seems like the type to prefer a call. I will call him after work.

When the day is finished, I'm on my way to the dining hall. I pull my phone from my pocket and look up his number. I press call and listen to the phone ring. I look over my shoulder and see Michael a few steps behind me. Why didn't he say anything? I wave at him and he waves back, but doesn't catch up with me, instead turning around a corner and taking a different route to the cafeteria.