Remembering Summer

 She stood meekly at the back of the room unnoticed to all except me. Chestnut hair hung in cascades of autumn over a head that inclined to her feet. She was as out of place as me. I fell in love with her right there and then.
 I made my way around the dance floor never taking my eyes off her for a second. Nobody stopped to say hi; nobody paused to smile, I was an illusion: suited me fine.
 The girl was more shadow than party guest by the time I reached her. She’d backed her way as far from everyone as the walls would allow. I had her cornered; she trembled like a frightened rabbit.
 And then it struck me, I had no idea what to say! I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Instead, I stood there wringing my hands together like a little kid about to get into trouble for making a mess in his mother’s kitchen.
 I think she sensed my nerves that I was different from the loudmouths and show offs. She looked at me with eyes of cider gold and smiled. I melted. She laughed.
 ‘My name’s Summer,’ she said.
 It has been ever since.

 (Image courtesy of Kyena on

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