1
Lennon
Myobsessionbegantheway all obsessions do, with a spark. A tiny, insignificant flicker that crossed my mind without conscious intention and woke something in me.
I hadn’t been myself for a while. For months, a black mood had plagued me. A constant companion I didn’t like. One that talked and chewed loudly, interrupting my dreams and commandeering my thoughts. It sank its claws into me slowly. So slowly that I didn’t feel them pierce my skin.
By the time I became aware of them, it was too late. They were in deep.
The first time I saw him, there was a drag. A slow, sluggish tug that caused friction. A scrape of a match over a rough surface. Not enough for a flame to take hold, but enough for a spark to ignite.
Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so memorable if I’d been in a better state of mind at the time. Given how long I’d been in the dark, I’d grown accustomed to it. My pupils were permanentlydilated, and my retina had become sensitive to light. When that happens, even the tiniest glimmer burns like a flare.
It made him hard to miss.
Harder to forget.
Impossible to stop thinking about.
At first, that’s all it was. A glimmer. A grainy, backlit image on my computer screen. A face and a smile. A regular face, with a smile on it. The face was pleasant enough. Straight nose. Decent bone structure. Symmetrical features accompanied by somewhat insipid coloring. Pleasant, but forgettable.
The same couldn’t be said for the smile. It was a rare thing, that smile. A strange beast that reached through my screen and shook me.
A radiant beam. A captivating curve of lips.
A taunt.
A dare.
A gentle expression that called me by name.
I ignored it, of course.
Everyone knows that smiles don’t call you by name, and they sure as shit don’t reach through computer screens and shake you. What’s more, believing that a stranger’s smile can do either of those things is a sure sign of questionable mental health.
In light of that, I made a firm decision to scrub the image from my mind and forget it existed.
It was easier said than done. The more I scrubbed, the deeper the stain set in.
It wasn’t long before my waking hours were spent actively not thinking of him, and my nights were spent willing myself to forget his forgettable face.
I was almost successful. Almost able to control myself. Almost able to put him out of my mind.
His smile was my downfall.
2
Lennon
TheSparksitsinthe sun. I stand, fifty yards away, with my back against a brick wall and my face turned, keeping me hidden from view.
It’s the first week of the fall semester, and the worst of the summer heat has passed. Leaves are yellowing but haven’t begun to turn in earnest yet. It’s one of those days that’s on the fence. A blue-sky day that hasn’t decided whether it’s going to warm up with vengeance by midday, or turn and make everyone regret not bringing a sweater to class.
As always, The Spark is surrounded by others. There’s a girl with him. A redhead I’ve seen four times before. A gorgeous girl who looks at him like he hung the moon. There’s a guy with him too. A bona fide jock, or someone who badly wants everyone to believe he is one. Every garment he’s wearing, including his watch strap, water bottle, and bag, has the logo of a sports brand on it.
I’m tired to my marrow just looking at him.
The Spark is wearing a powder-blue T-shirt. Like most of his clothes, it’s a little loose on him. A half-size or more too big. It falls from his shoulders in soft folds that give me the distinct impression he’s the kind of person who not only owns fabric softener, but knows how to use it.
