Perfect is the only way to describe him.
His light brown hair hidden
by a soft blue cap, his face that held all of those wonderful
expressions, his clothing, the way he spoke in a voice not much lower
than my own, how he was short and small, how he could light up a room
with only the simplest of smiles...
That's what I loved about him.
The
days that followed his move, he was always in my thoughts. I kept his
image alive in my memory, sitting down and closing my eyes with a small
smile as I remembered his laugh, his smile, the way he talked to me in
such a caring, gentle voice.
The moment he, my first and only crush, stepped into the car, I made a promise to myself;
One day I will kiss Luke Triton.
Years
later, I wondered how I would fulfill that promise. Luke no longer sent
letters, and I realized with a sad thought, that he was probably more
interested in mysteries and puzzles to remember the girl from his
childhood, the girl from his home town. He probably had a girlfriend, I
thought, remembering how he blushed when my lips touched his warm cheek.
Who wouldn't love a face like that...?
As a few years past me
by, I wondered if it was time to move on. To forget Luke Triton, to
erase his space-consuming memories from my mind forever. But when I take
time to watch the slow, soothing flow of the canals or take a quick
visit to the old Triton-quarters, I know I can't bring myself to forget
him, my first love.
But finally, years of waiting payed off. I
remembered the old, familiar feeling of butterflies fluttering around in
my stomach, of my heart beating fast as I finally heard his voice for
the first time in years.
"I'm coming home," he said.
He was coming home.
He was coming to me, and that's all that mattered.
My
heart swelled with joy, and in a delighted hurry I busied myself with
unnecessary house cleaning and quickly telling any object that would
listen,
"Luke Triton is coming back!
He's coming home!"
And at the end of the rushed explanations, at the end of the silly cleaning, is where our story begins.