Drawn
And I wish I'd received that remark as I watched him stare at his paper before inserting it between his books.
"Would you mind sharing your short love poem with the class?" Mrs. Queue asked as she returned to her seat.
Love poem, I was struck by Ms. Queue's words. The idea of Connor writing a love poem seemed unbelievable.
He shook his head no.
"Okay, I will not force you to," said Ms. Queue, walking from his desk.
His eyes, darker than space, slowly met mine, and I shyly looked away from their beauty.
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