In high school I had always been the odd man out. I was sort of a dork, got average grades and had loads of good friends. But I was never the kind of guy any girl could imagine herself dating. I was the guy that got invited to parties someone might come talk to if they wanted to discuss Dungeons and Dragons and science fiction novels. I wasn’t even into D&D.
But nonetheless I had a fine high school experience, never confessing the enormous crush I had on a girl named Gina Glassman. Gigi, for short. With her black curls and olive skin, she was the envy of her female classmates and the desire of her male ones. She was one of my friends throughout high school and I almost summoned up the courage to ask her to senior prom, but one of the jocks she was friends with at the time swept out of nowhere and asked her right in front of me. She said yes.
We went our separate ways, I to a community college and Gina to a state university. For a time, I forgot about her. I even had a couple relationships in college. Then I got a job with the postal service. That’s how I found her again.
On day as I was making deliveries in a suburban neighborhood, I heard singing. It was a beautiful, trilling voice. I glanced down the sidewalk and watched as a woman with thick ebony locks swept her front porch and sang of lovely tune. She wouldn’t have recognized me, but I couldn’t forget her face. Even with laugh lines and faint creases across her forehead, Gina was as stunning as I remembered. I searched my sack and checked for mail with her address. There were three envelopes addressed to Gina Glassman. She wasn’t married. I almost leapt out of my skin.
Lacking confidence, I approached her and handed her her mail. With a simple “thank you” she went back to sweeping and humming in time with the swish of the broom. Since that wonderful moment, I hadn’t gone a day without thinking about her.