Carter

The first time I really saw him for who he was,
or really saw him at all,
was the week after my dog had died.

I was walking along the corridors,
having to barge my way through the masses of people,
clutching my school books to my chest,
and keeping my head down, as always,
when someone knocked into me.

The impact sent me sprawling along the ground,
leaving me to fumble for my books amongst the legs of my peers,
and it was him who helped me.
It was him who bent down and gathered the rest of the books,
and it was him who held out his hand for me,
pulling me to my feet effortlessly.

"Are you okay?" He asked me,
and all I could do was nod my head,
my voice seemed to have deserted me.
Then he grinned at me (oh, that smile!),
and told me he was late for class,
and left.

And that was the first,
and last,
time that he ever spoke to me.

I think about it a lot.