I only just now recalled that if I am extremely lucky, you kiss me on the cheek at our scattered reunions. My voice caught in my throat just now & choked me.

I want to talk to you. I’m afraid to talk to you. I’m a horrible person. I’m not equipped to handle these feelings.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

My favourite part of high school was by far participating on the Academic Decathlon team, of which you were the proud coach. The more I think about it, the more I realise just how well you knew each one of us there. You knew that my best friend needed empty threats that you’d be horribly disappointed in her or that you’d never speak to her again if she didn’t do well. & you knew that I needed gentle nurturing, kind words, pep talks before being swept into a practice interview. Regular reminders that you loved me & that you just wanted to see me happy no matter the outcome. It all meant so much. You truly were my anchor during those tough times.

I could never forget the day that I began to truly fall for you, the day that I learnt that you listened to the same bullshit hipster bands that I loved.

You’re spending your spring break somewhere fabulous, no doubt. I wonder if you’ll think to tell me about it when you return to Ohio.