first love
When I got older, I discovered a new feeling of joy and utter misery. Love.
I dated many, many people, but the one that stands out to me and the one most fitting is my first love.
I first met with this person in a coffee shop. It was rainy and smelled like wet soil. The roads were slick. It was the first rain in some months. I remember walking in and glancing over towards them. The first thing I noticed was their hair, which was cut to their chin, and their skin, which was almost sickly in paleness. I thought they were beautiful. I ended up ordering a cup of coffee that I never ended up drinking. At the time, I only pretended to like coffee, but the more time I spent with this person the more I ended up acquiring a taste for it. We only talked for a couple of hours, but those two hours felt like a lifetime.
The second time we met was at an open mic, which was my awful idea. I enjoyed going to that open mic as I was an aspiring musician at the time. Nobody particularly enjoyed me or my music, which I admit probably wasn't great, but I always liked the atmosphere. After taking my time to walk there, as I had just been recovering from an illness, we had met again, and I noticed my heart flutter as I studied the things I found most beautiful about them. From there, we spent many days together and those days I won't ever forget, even though I wish I could in hindsight.