A little magic and a look







As I trudge to my Spanish class with my head in my crosses arms the tears plummet down my face and splash onto my books like a waterfall splashing on rocks. My chest feels like its catering an inferno. A fire that won’t burn out. The reason? Him. Her. No, him and her. All boys have this type of magic. You know the kind that makes girls talk about them with their friends and get butterflies every time you walk by them. Yeah. That magic. All the girls know it and I am engrossed in the spell. Everything about this boy makes the magic stronger. His broad shoulders. His crooked yet breathtaking smile. His thick, soft black hair that I love to fondle my fingers through. And the one thing that engulfed me in this spell…his amazing, mesmerizing green eyes that look at me the way my grandpa looks at my grandma. That look you only see in movies that make you cry snot tears. That look that they give you that make it seem like they would perish without this other person. The look he gave me when he told me he loved me. That look. But starting today, that look belongs to someone other than me. It belongs to her. The girl who has her own kind of magic. The girl who gets to caress his broad shoulders when he is upset, and make him smile that crooked yet breathtaking smile, and fondle her fingers through his thick, soft black hair, and gets to look into his amazing mesmerizing green eyes that he once looked at me the way my grandpa looks at my grandma with. Her. And him. He is like a little boy who borrowed something and giving it back completely shattered. My heart. It was like a toy to him. The pain. The pain in my chest were my heart should be feels like a knife is permanently imbedded into it and wont come out unless he removes it. When will it be numb? A day? A month? A year? No. A lifetime. A lifetime of heartache is what they caused. And it all started with a little magic and a look.