“Hello, Mr. Myers,” she said with a beautiful smile.

Startled, I replied in kind. She stood before me in anticipation while I watched the sun peak through her golden hair. Searching for something to say, I told her that I liked her dress.

“Thank you. When we went to the store, I made sure it had some yellow in it,” she beamed as she twirled slightly to let the flow of the dress boast its color.

“Kylie would love that,” I answered.

“I thought so, too. Well, I’ll see you later,” she said as she bounded off toward her friends.

I watched her rush off until she was engulfed in a sea of young women all flaunting perfectly-styled hair, manicured nails, and the prettiest dresses their closets could produce. The boys – awkward in their ties – stood off to the side bucking horns, pretending not to be fascinated with their more delicate classmates. At fourteen, I could see the beginnings of the magnetic pull that they would deny as long as possible then succumb to as if they ever had a choice. Read More