By the Yearning Man
Now that I think about it, I did meet you once.
It was on one of those cold and windy afternoons in July, 11 years ago. I had just come from Dingo and was heading to class when I saw one of my favourite prefects coming down the opposite end of the corridor.
His azure shirt draped over his broad shoulders and his stripy red, white, and black tie fluttered over his chest. The lapel of his shirt was somewhat broken, but it was hardly noticeable. As he walked majestically, I wondered if he was aware that the black slacks he donned sagged slightly beneath his waist. I did not pursue that line of thought further when I could come to no reasonable conclusion about the matter.
“Hey Zuze!*” I chirped.
“Whatsup Chai*,” he thundered delightfully.
I would have proceeded in conversation with Zuze, had I not been distracted by the young lady that he so firmly gripped at the hip. She payed no mind to my attempts to greet her though I waved fervently.
I was slightly impressed by how, firstly despite the low temperatures, the sun bathed over her copper skin making it shimmer and shine like ripples in the water. I may have also been captured by how, with each step, came a radiation a technicolor painting the surroundings with life. I believe it was the upturned corners of her mouth; no doubt, the result of her suitor’s charm, that finally disarmoured me. I cursed myself as I pondered if ever I would one day be accorded the privilege of her company.
“Come baby*.” the prefect said shattering all hope against hope.
The couple walked into oblivion. She, intoxicated by the serenity of the moment, and he enveloped by the envy he could sense in the young man who watched them.
*Names have been changed to protect the identities of the parties. If this sounds familiar please contact us and we will furnish you with the author’s details. He is desperately seeking you.