When We Love

VINCENT

The first moment I saw her standing in front of the class waiting for Mr. Johnson, I did not pay any attention. Just another white girl I thought to myself, but as the minutes ticked by and I continued looking at her because she made the time pass, I suddenly realized I am uncontrollably interested in her.

The way she stared out of the window nervously, the way she seemed to be swinging from one leg to the other, her sun-kissed blonde hair, neatly pinned up, with a few wayward strands breaking free from their imprisonment. Her full flushed lips, the intelligence in her crystal blue eyes, and her relief when Mr. Johnson walked into the class, made me smile inexplicably.