Something I found while cleaning my room, or "Phillip and the Goth Girl".

[phillipmorephil]

I look at you on the bench, reading your book. I smile, walk over, and sit on the opposite side, watching the people skate on the concrete nearby. I notice your shoes; they are small, dainty things colored a bright blue. They contrast beautifully with your big black pants and pale skin. I think, "What a pretty girl. What is this person doing here, reading, amidst these sweaty skater kids? She seems so out of place." You looked fifteen or so. I shrug to myself, "It couldn't hurt just to talk to her. I've got to say something that doesn't sound stupid, but not so cheesy that she'll think I'm just some big douche." I remember your shoes then, those bright blue things that made me smile so much. I don't touch you, don't want to be an ass. I just look at the back of your head as you read quietly, "I like your shoes." You give me some coy smile, turn to me and say, "Thanks." I smile and introduce myself, offering a hand, "My name's Phillip." You smile back at me and give my hand a quick shake. You tell me your name, but I seem to have forgotten. For the life of me, I cannot recall your name. I ask what book you're reading. Some pseudo-gothic modern fantasy novel. I ask what grade you're in, all nonchalant. You chuckle a little bit and say, "I'm twenty-three." We have this awkward conversation about how you look much younger than twenty-three, and that you're here to watch over your little brother. Funny, your little brother's name is Richard. Funnier, your little brother Richard is the skater kid in my grade. My friend, Heather, comes up to me, "Are you ready to go? We're still going, right?" Her and I had planned to do something. That was before I met you. I look desperately at you, then Heather, and back to you. I give you this desperate look, as if to ask, "Am I ever going to see you again?" You give me some kind of sad yet reassuring look, like, "I hope so." All while heather and I were doing whatever we did, I wanted to get back to the skate park. I bug her enough that she takes me back there, and I see you walking to the gate. I want to give you a hug, but that would be weird. I ask, "Oh, are you leaving?" You nod, and I sigh, almost asking and almost stating, "So, I'll see you later?" You give me that coy smile, like some kind of hopeful, "I don't know." Months later, I stand there, looking hopefully at the ground, scouting for a pair of bright blue shoes.

I still can't remember her name.

EDIT: I talked to Richard the other day. Her name's Ally. Allie, mabye. Either way.