#179

after graduating summa cum laude, he went through a period of life that was nothing like anyone expected. of course, it was the first time he made a decision based solely on the fact that it might be the wrong one. social networking wasn't all the rage, and the bulge in jeans pockets was round containers of chew or powder compacts and the occasional packet of gum, not cell phones.
he was dirty and artistic for a whole year. his chocolate hair grew and curled at the end, he learned to brush it behind his ears before it surreptitiously ended up right back hanging in front of his eyes.
he wrote. pages and pages worth. there were always girls and bottles and music- from guitars and from stereos and it was all just a two year-long blur of self-destruction and creation. just as quickly, he left that life and those lives.
that was so long ago.
he passed a girl on the street today. two steps later he turned quickly; surprised when she did the same. they locked eyes longer than social niceties allow for strangers. instinctively, he reached up to brush a non-existent curl from his eyes. he looked down at his navy suit and conservative tie, then back to her open-toe kitten heels, and pencil skirt. a flash of pale skin, then only the back of her head- a sleek bun and retreating back.
and isn't it funny how we expect people to stay the same?