I guess I kept hoping some kind of miracle would happen. I expected him to turn around, remember my face, remember those days long ago when we used to play together. I wanted him to feel the same longing that I had felt for years, even though he hardly noticed me now. He was so mysterious, overworked, and yet there was something about him that made you want to smile and start laughing every time he talked. It was a good feeling.
I was walking down the hallway, staring down at my Converse-clad feet. Shuffling along, choosing to notice the dust and pieces of jewelry that were scattered across the floor, instead of the bodies that pressed around me, walked ahead of me, moved through me. It was a safe existence. I didn't concern myself with anyone else and they paid no attention to me.
I looked up; he turned the corner. His appearance registered so pleasantly in my brain that it made me smile. We were walking toward each other, like it had all been planned out for us. The shouting and laughter around me faded out and all I was aware of was him. Our eyes met for one infinite second, but his looked contained no recognition. We were getting closer; within seconds I would be in front of him. He simply could not ignore me now.
He walked right through me. Like everybody else. There was no special connection that we held. He was just a boy. I was just a ghost.
written by Stefanie, Indian Hills High School