Lily

The first time I saw Lena, I had never seen anything so perfect.1

She had been wearing jeans and a too-big oliver green cardigan. Her long blonde hair had been flowing down to her waist, and she had a pencil behind one ear and a lily behind the other. She had been reading Shakespeare's collected works with a determined look in her leaf green eyes, which were squinted in concentration. The minute I saw her, I was in love.2

I headed clumsily over to my seat two rows across from her, tripping over my own feet, unable to take my eyes off her. Despite all the noise I made attempting to keep my cool, she never once looked up from her Shakespeare.3

The bell rang, and the teacher began to ramble. I tried, in vain, to stop staring and mind my own business. Besides, I should probably be listening to the lecture--what subject was this again? I couldn't even remember. All that was on my mind was Lena's perfection--no surprises there.4

That was when I noticed the lily behind her ear. I mean, really noticed how it complemented her features in ways I couldn't even explain. I wondered where she had found it; there were no flowers on our campus. I imagined myself tucking the lily behind her ear, caressing her cheek. She would smile up at me, I would smile back, love in our eyes. I would tell her with my eyes how I felt, what I felt. Her eyes would tell me the same thing.5

I snapped back to reality when the bell screamed in my ear. It took me a moment to get my bearings, and when I looked over at Lena's seat, she was gone, but there was something small and white on the the desk top. I grabbed my bag, got up, walked over to her seat and picked it up. It was the lily, and for a moment, I sensed it was a sign that she loved me too.