I loitered in that corridor the whole school year, nonchalantly leaning against my locker in between periods 4 and 5; while not so discreetly watching her. Noting every nuance of her garments which changed daily without ever repeating. I was hypnotized by the cut of her strut. No, not strut; the glide in her stride.
She clearly worked hard to ignore me. Still I convinced myself she was sneaking a peek my way with a sort of stifled psychic acknowledgment. I reciprocated with my patented teenage gaze and smirk. Was I stalking in a crowded school hallway?
I only ever saw her at that spot at that time because I thought regimented consistency of school schedules served up that gawking opportunity. Nor did I ever follow her, though fleeting possible sightings at other locations in the school were not unheard of whispers to my eyes. But I never spied her at large out on the free range world.
Something about her didn’t track right; until the last day of the school year when I found the memorial plaque beside the school trophy cabinet. I wasn’t stalking her, she was a ghost haunting me.
A Scroll Threw Life 