Last week and one day ago was a Tuesday and you wore blue. A light blue. A beautiful light blue, lighter than the color of my favorite Dentyne mints, but darker than the sky colored laces on your brightly tinted shoes. A blue that was a magnetic match to your brown eyes. And I waved to you. On Tuesday. I gestured a ‘hello’ to you, the boy with brown eyes in the beautiful blue sweater. You didn’t respond- not bothering to look at me looking my best.

Seven days ago was a Wednesday. I walked past you twice. Pretending to be busy. You watched me pass twice, your brown eyes followed my every step. I didn’t see you again. But guess what- I wore blue that day. Not a beautiful blue. Not a blue lighter than my Dentyne mints, or darker than your laces. A dirty teal, almost grey. Did you notice? Did you notice as I walked by?

It was a Thursday- one, two, three, four, five, six. Six days ago it was a Thursday. You sat alone on a bench. A bench with peeling brown paint in the courtyard. The courtyard with the one brown bench and a bare birch tree. For a second, a split-second, I sat next to you. I felt a charged current go though my finger tips where my hand brushed up against yours as I sat. You with your brown eyes and a grey sweatshirt sitting next to a girl with green eyes and a red coat. Staying for a moment, I took in one last breath of your inconspicuous musk and left the painted bench and the bare birch tree.

1:00 pm on a Friday. It would be two days before I saw you again. Will you miss me? But today I have good news. The boy with the perspicacious brown eyes saw me. He waved to me as I snapped my favorite dark blue Dentyne mints. I waved back at you. Slowly. Just to make sure that it was you- you saw me. You waved. On Friday. Thank you. See you soon? Oh yes.

Saturday took my whole being not to walk past your house. Down the street, take a left by the pink house with wilting yellow daisies, turn at the white fence. The twelfth house on the right next to the ‘Dead End’ sign. Your house is a beautiful blue with light brown, gently dying grass as the snow prepares to come. I miss you. Do you remember? I sat next to you. On the bench. Our bench. Did you notice the electric charge pass between us? I suppose not. Even though you didn’t see me, I wore brown on Saturday. I was reminded of you with your dark brown eyes.

It was a Sunday morning when I saw you outside my window. The boy from the house next to the ‘Dead End’ sign, two turns, and down the street. I move closer to the window. Put my hand on cold, cold, cold, glass. I watched you walk by and noticed your blue laces. I smiled lightly to myself. You looked cold walking past in your sneakers with light laces, and a green coat. Green. I’ve never thought of you as green. Bright, romantic blues and chocolate browns but not green. I have green eyes. Dull green with specks of a brown that I wish to call golden auburn. Green does not suit you. And before you finished walking past my house I looked away, because green does not suit you.

Monday. Monday. I repeated it twice to remind myself the day. Two days ago was Monday. I love that Monday. You spoke to me that Monday. “Hey” you said in passing. Purposefully to me in your smooth operator voice. “Hey” and I observed a glimpse of victory in your eyes. Like you succeeded in a challenge. Or finally completed something you’ve wanted for a while. You smiled at me, lingered and walked by touching your shoulder to mine. I smelled your scent again. I let my eyes follow the back of your head and I felt strange. Silently celebrating while yearning to say more. Try again. Too many words left unsaid. That is what you do to me. Did you know?

Yesterday was a Tuesday and you wore green. It reminds me that green is wrong for you. I try to avoid you for the rest of Tuesday, but you seek me out and find me. This time I get a better look at your face. Your whole face. I blink twice and zoom in. Pale pink lips. Long rounded nose. Small forehead covered by fluffy mop-like brunette hair. And yet handsome. You said, “Hey, you dropped a pocket.” And send me on a visual search along the ground. I look up and understand what you said. I laugh in spite of myself. You laugh too. A slow laugh- as if before you were holding your breath to see if I would find it funny. I passed the test. There we were. Laughing together.

And here I am. Wednesday. I am determined to talk to you. You. The boy with the brown eyes, who spoke to me twice. I have a question to ask you. But I stop and look at myself. Hello mirror. Lovely day today. Hmm. Yes. Thank you. I see my countenance so different from yours. Large lips- always red from being bitten. Short nose. Round face. Green eyes. Brown hair. Oh mirror. Should I ask? What if I get the wrong answer? Hmm. Yes. Okay. Good-bye. I walk and approach you. We’re in the courtyard. Alone sitting on the peeling bench again. Our bench. “What’s your favorite color?” I ask. You face me. A small smile spreads across your face. Your handsome face with brown eyes. You’re wearing blue today and I smile, too. “Green.” I hear the reply and I stop breathing. Tick, tick, tick. The time is passing and I haven’t breathed. He’s waiting for a reply but my mind can’t process one. Green. “What’s your favorite color?” Your eyes meet mine like dynamite. Boom, boom, boom. I say, “Brown.”