We were just supposed to be partners because he's too low-level to put with the other students.

But I couldn't help notice.

His top teeth and bottom teeth were different. His top ones were older, more yellow. And more narrow near the roots.

But I couldn't help notice.

His breath. He had the type of bad breath that people who don't floss (or brush?) have. We were more than a foot away and it was early morning. I was not in the mood and immediately regretted trying to save my other students.




But it wasn't until the bus ride home, when you're standing for ages on a bus whose driver doesn't know how to ease on the brakes, that your mind begins to wander.

To that last week.

The kisses. He wanted so many kisses. Lots of 'I love you's and lots of kisses.

Remember when he never wanted to be kissed? How you had to sneak attack him and kiss him on the cheek or the forehead right before you parted ways? How he always made that yuck face, but you knew that he liked it. 

Remember how you used to have to say 'I love you' first and kept repeating it until he said that he loves you too? 

Remember always finishing phone conversations with an 'I love you…' and an expectant silence until he said 'Love you' in the same way that he always did. In the same tone that he always said 'Hello' on the phone when he knew it was your house calling or that you were on the phone.


I remember. And I miss you.