Nineteen Twentyiths of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Some books you never forget and some you never finish. One one occaision it was both. I graduated in the eleventh grade out of spite; but more on that later. It was that eleventh year that we met. You didn't know it at first. Because at first, I was standing in the locker bay and I was looking up the ramp for no particular reason when you walked up to the top of it, looking happily about for a friend. In just as brief a time you turned in a swirl of belt length hair with the warmth of summer straw and were gone. There you had been for just a moment. A moment I caught by accident. An all-the-sound-had-dropped-away moment almost feeling stolen in the out-of-my-league feel of it. It was a moment that lasted months as it wound through my thoughts.
Sometimes I say I believe in Karma because of this. Because there you were a few months later in Spanish Class the last semester I had; just in time to borrow my copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.  Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which I was so wrapped up in; which I was ten short pages from finishing. Which I was dying to read while you had it. Which of course,  I've never finished in tribute to the unfinished feelings laid down in my past when you left me to go on and grow up.