Once, not so long ago, in a place not far from here, there was a girl, who was cripplingly in love with a boy. Her name was Milena, his name was Ethan, and it was plainly obvious to Ethan the feelings that radiated toward him from her, but he did nothing about it. Milena preferred it that way. She couldn’t even work up the nerve to talk to him, how could they be more than what they were? Acquaintances.
Milena knew absolutely everything there was to know about Ethan. His favorite color: red. His favorite food: tacos. His favorite sport: baseball, of which he played very well. She was also constantly aware of his serious heart condition that worried her day and night, sometimes bringing tears to her eyes. What if his heart took him away from her forever? Before she ever even got him to notice her?
Well he did notice her. And she annoyed him to no end.
But, once while exercising in P.E. class, he clasped his hand over his chest and fell to the ground and of course Milena noticed. He was wearing a new shirt that she didn’t recognize and she was trying to figure out where he might’ve bought it from.
“Milena!” he called out and she ran to him, forgetting immediately that she was petrified to be near him.
“Yes, Ethan?” she asked, kneeling at his side where he collapsed, trying to assess the situation and unsure of what to do. Bystanders were surrounding them, also unsure of what to do.
He gasped for air, pulling at his new and uncomfortable shirt. “Tell me something that will make me feel better,” he choked.
“I love you, Ethan! I always have!” she accidently shouted, but volume suddenly had no meaning.
Ethan suddenly stopped writhing on the gym floor and stood up, straightening his shirt, “I knew you had a crush on me,” he said and walked away, calm.
As painfully horrible as this is, I love telling this story to people.