Intermission

Clang! Thunk.

"Ah, shit, sorry!"

A girl ran over to a tall-haired boy, nervously scratching her head.

"Soooo sorry about that! I was just playing around with the can, I-I didn't mean to hit you. . . Oh! Sorry, lemme get that for you!" She apologized as she removed a Coke can from his hair.

"Uhh, thanks. . ."

Boingo couldn't help but stare – her dark hair was messy and unkempt, 'Just like. . . Nah.'

She apologized one final time before running off. Boingo walked away somberly.

'Anne's hair was wavier.'

He sat down on the curb to watch the sunset, hoping that it would prevent her from plaguing his mind for at least a few minutes. As usual, his efforts were fruitless. He felt pathetic to admit it, but her memory made it nearly impossible to move on – what wasn't there to remember about her? She was so cool!

'Among a million other things.'

From her mischievous hazel eyes, to her bounding step, to the several scrapes that adorned her shins; from her odd-numbered freckles, to her shrill laugh; from her semi-chipped nails to her scent of dust and laundry --

He sighed. It was unbearable.

Thank God his brother was released from the hospital not long after – taking care of him allowed him to focus on something else. Yet even then, she couldn't just leave him be.

He'd be washing the dishes and feel her touch on his shoulder, only to turn around and face an empty space. He'd be reading and get startled by her laugh, then disappointedly learn that it was just the child next door.

'Maybe it's Lord Dio's way of punishing me,' Boingo thought bitterly.

But the torture at home was so tame compared to that of the dating scene.

Whenever he had the (awkward) pleasure of being confessed to, Boingo didn't hesitate to coldly turn them down. Once in a blue moon, a suitor would approach him and (often aggressively) ask him out, most of which he'd accept after a long pause.

However, he'd soon come to regret it.

First off, he only agreed if they resembled her in any way – whether it be in terms of personality or looks. Which would then cause him to stare silently for the majority of the date. During which he'd notice more and more things that she didn't have. Which would cause him to reminisce and zone out and lead his date to worry, to which he'd say he was fine and go on with the ordeal.

And at some point he'd slip up and call her the wrong name and she'd tearfully ask, "Who's Anne?" and (thankfully) leave in a huff.

And then he'd head home and spend yet another agonizing night thinking about her.

It was embarrassing, and sometimes he cursed Anne for leaving and making him so crazy. Rumors soon came out:

"Is he gay?"

"No, he's just hung up on some bitch."

"How pathetic."