As We Were
A long road is ten yearsTen years. Yes, almost exactly. Biking to school I, all big-mouthed and cocky, sped past her on my racing bike, grasping at her jet-black plait. Me, away laughing. At fifteen, a tinge of jealousy when she held hands with Norman? I would vehemently deny that. Then those birthday parties. All joking and kissing games. Our first kiss was at one of those parties. Just a game, wasn’t it? Suddenly, for me, it wasn’t. Infatuatio...
