I' staring at the board of notes. But I can not read them. My pencil is in my hand. But it dares not move. The teachers voice is stern and strong but makes no sound. That's when i go blind. All is see is the slow fading in of tiny purple flowers in the long think green grass. I can smell them even in the dead of winter when they are nowhere to be seen. I feel the slow warmth of the hand that gives me the single tiny purple flower no bigger than the tip of my little finger. All I can seem to remember is her face from the nose down to her perfectly exposed shoulders. Her smile stares at me and it crinkles her nose as her hair effortlessly falls around her shoulders as if to hold her the way I have always longed to do.