It wasn't the way she sighed when you walked up to her, or the way she told you to leave wordlessly, or even her resting bitch face that made her so unapproachable. It was how hollow and worn her voice was. It was almost as if she had lost so much motivation that she no longer felt any reason to put effort into forming words.

In first period I asked for her name. In seventh period she leaned over the table and mumbled in between chapped and peeling lips, "Savannah." At first I didn't understand what she meant, having asked so long ago. It didn't bother her that I hadn't been able to register her words-- or, word.

The next day I began a question, my intention to find out her name. She didn't look up when I stopped halfway and smiled. Savannah.

It began a regular occurrence for Savannah to sit beside me. We had an unspoken agreement that I was allowed one question in first period, and she would answer in the last. I didn't think it was all that weird.

"What's your favorite color?" -- "Blue."
"Where did you move here from?" -- "Small school. In Virginia."
"Who did you vote for class president?" -- "I didn't."

On a particular Thursday I decided to test my limits with Savannah.
I lean over to her desk and ask, "Can I sit with you at lunch tomorrow?"

Seventh period, my palms are sweaty. I've been waiting for this class.
2:55pm. I stare at the clock and count to sixty in my head two times. Savannah leans across the table and says, "Yes."
For the very first time, I see her smile. It's the most beautiful smile I've seen in my life.

I wake up the next morning and wear the prettiest outfit in my closet. My hair is flowing down my back and I don't ever wear makeup, but today I dare to try some sheer lipgloss.

First period. I lean over to an empty desk and furrow my eyebrows. The teacher calls roll and I answer immediately, but for some odd reason he doesn't say Savannah's name.

I sit by myself and wonder where my new developed crush could possibly be.


It has been two years and I haven't seen Savannah since. Someone said she moved to Chicago, someone else said she moved only two schools away.
I enter my first period class and glance at the empty desk beside me.

"I miss you." I whisper into the empty space.

Seventh period, I sit alone. 2:55pm.
"I miss you too." I mumble to myself through a chapped pair of lips. My voice is quite dull.
It was almost as if I had lost so much motivation that I no longer felt any reason to put effort into forming words.