I Noticed

1

I noticed.

I noticed the way she looked through the books at the library. I noticed how she tilted her head to read the sideways titles on the shelves. I noticed the way she ran her fingers across the uneven backs of books, pushing on them so they were as even as possible.

I noticed how she read, leaning over her desk, close enough to smell the black ink on the pages. She looked ready to jump into the book and join the characters, escape real life in exchange for the dramatic perfect chaos of fiction.

I noticed how she took notes in class. Still leaning close to her notebook, pencil gripped tightly in hand. The graphite moves across the page quickly as she glances from the board to her notebook, not missing a thing. Writing in large, looping and uneven letters taking up each line, evenly spaced, perfectly imperfect.

I noticed how she doodled on the corner of every page. Clothing, faces, abstract, shapes, anything and everything. I noticed when she pulled a thin point sharpie out of her bag to transfer the page's doodles onto her tanned wrists and hands.

I noticed how she ran her hand through her short, blonde hair when she was stressed. I noticed the small fidgeting every time she focused. Biting her nails without actually biting them, tapping the desk, twisting the glittering necklace on her throat, clicking pens, tapping her foot, tying and untying her hoodie strings, looping and unlooping her white headphone wires around her finger, constantly moving.

I noticed her fixing her clothing whenever she stood. Whenever she talks to someone. Almost seeming self conscious but still standing with her shoulders square and upright, unfazed by others. Staying confident even when her red cheeks heated due to an awkward situation.

I noticed the few people she took time to talk to and the one person she found every break she could. She met her in the same spot, like it was autopilot for her. She automatically walked out of class and straight to her meeting place.

I noticed the table she sat and laughed at every morning during Access with the same group of people. I noticed every time she wasn't there; in the band room or talking to teachers. I noticed when she had a morning of argument with her brother and didn't want to talk. I noticed when she was in too good of a mood to focus and didn't even bother to pull out her homework as she sipped her always different Starbucks drink.

I noticed how she was almost always late, sitting down with an exasperated sigh and complaining about her brother and how he made her late. I noticed her checking her phone even when she was with the only people she often talked to. Or how she would bring it closer to her chest to look at something that she didn't want people seeing over her shoulder, not that anyone was even looking.

I noticed the few days during Access that her friends weren't at the table when she got there so she went to a comfortable chair by the walls by herself and pulled out a book. She then held it up as if attempting to block out the world from her senses.

I noticed during lunch when she sat with no more than 4 people, uncomfortable in large groups. She occasionally sat alone and pulled out her book, which changed every few days. Sometimes she would just sit and watch others with headphones in to avoid conversation.

I noticed how after school she went out front to sit in the warm sun by herself and watching her phone screen, analytically playing one of the games downloaded. I noticed the large white car that she swung herself into in a practiced manner.

I noticed her everyday in every unique thing she did.

And I noticed when she disappeared.