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She ran off without looking back. We did write to each other, regular letters in 1972-73, used to take a week at best, sometimes 10 days. We would share the news, each cycle of letters sometimes taking a month or more. She wrote of her achieving womanhood, and how she particularly missed me then. We would write of school work, and how we missed doing assignments together. As a year passed, she would ask me if I had made any another special friend in my new place. It was a boys only school, and contacts with girls were very limited as it was a very conservative town. Once she mentioned about another boy, Bharat, who she said had joined the school. She asked me not to be jealous of her friendship with him, and said that I was the first love she found, and no one could take that place. She frequently asked me whether I made any in her place, but there was none, and the place in my heart always felt empty, till I met Saroja. Gradually, the frequencies of letters declined, and as we. ” She noticed that he didn’t hold eye contact with her. When she looked him in the eye, his gaze fell, or he made an excuse to look away. “We can go to the cafe; it should be empty by now.”Lisa sipped her Pumpkin Spice latte and flipped through the many pages of poetry within the book on her lap as she waited for Will to finish pouring an unnecessary amount of sugar and creamer into his coffee. She was pondering which poet they would start with when he finally made his way to their little booth near the back, and they sat in awkward silence for what seemed like forever.“So.” They both started.“Oh sorry, go ahead.” Lisa quickly apologized and put the rim of her cup to her lips, preventing her from interrupting again.“It’s okay.” Will leaned back casually, smiling. “So this Shakespeare dude? Do you have any tips for better understanding what was up with him?”Lisa stopped to think about ways that she had learned to get better at connecting the themes of poetry. Absent-mindedly her cheeks.
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