My love story

February 10, 2016 by Montago Burgess



 

art,believe,concept,cute,diy,inspiration-53626d8d579e0aad752108c1c44c1b2f_h

So I’m putting this here because I think it’s a good thing to have. I mean tons of things could happen from now to end end of my life. It’s always good to have a record. I decided to make this blog about writing prompts and personal stories rather than the news I see and quirky inventions.

Do you remember your first love? Do you remember what is was like?

I met this girl in freshman year of high school. We first met when her and one of her friends were picking on one of my friends. After a short argument, we all went our separate ways. A couple of months later another friend, we will call her Hannah, proposed that I would make a good match for someone she knew. After school was over she agreed to take me to meet her. A couple of hours later and I am walking to the bus stop right outside of school and I see Hannah among the crowd of students. She seems to be dragging someone towards the double doors I just came out of. I push through the students, figuring I’d ask if she wanted to catch the bus together. We finally meet off to the side.

She says her friend (we will call her Anna) ” this is him! This is the guy! What do you think?”
Anna stares me up and down. I’m perplexed. I don’t know what she wants. Or what she seems nervous. Heather whispers “ask!” Loud enough for me to hear, but not Anna. I realized our conversation in class was about this girl.

Anna wasn’t ugly. She wasn’t pretty either. She had blue eyes, brown hair. Chubby cheeks and she was sorta goth. Compared to a scrawny black kid. With second hand clothes and a permanent scowl on his face at all times.

Not caring one way or the other, I decided to take Hannah’s advice and ask her out. Right before I popped the question another friend of Hannahs shows up.



Uncategorized life / Love / story /

Comments

Be the first to write a comment.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Skip to toolbar