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So Many Questions
A single piece of paper, laying in the deserted hallway.
A paper crumpled in a ball and left,
What did she think when she opened this note?
How did he feel as he wrote this words?
I wonder about the hands that wrote on this paper.
Did they shake?
Was every word written thought over?
Did he imagine that she would laugh?
Did he hear her laughter as she showed her friends?
How did he feel as he watched her crumple this paper as though it meant nothing and walk away, crushing his dreams and heart with one simple movement?
A single piece of paper, blank and fresh, ready to be used.
A single piece of paper, used for its purpose and now tossed away, left behind.
I see him now, walking through the narrow halls, eyes misted over, hurt written on his face. The hallways are empty, the bell has rung, and everyone has vanished, like a rabbit in a magicians hat.
But not him.
Instead he comes toward me, as though in a trance.
I am invisible to him as he stops and picks up the crumpled ball.
Does he hear her laughter echoing through his mind?
Is he remembering past hurts and rejections/
He cradles the ball in his hand and gazes at it.
As he feels this last emotion he throws his crumpled dream into the gray plastic garbage bin, staring down at it for a moment. Finally he looks up and as his eyes meet mine, I see the answers to all these questions.