reflections.

red plastic booth. pages with neat lines, highlighted vocab, and mathematical proofs are shuffled over the dirty tabletop. 

i sip steaming hot tea, shuddering as i feel bits of lemon slide down my throat, but don't care enough to pick them out of the cup.

i'm reading a chapter on "developing intimate relationships".

nowhere does it mention rushed kisses in a secret stairwell, nowhere does it mention that look in your eyes, nowhere does it mention...

you.