kuzushi once more
I knew when I took out my sister's yearbooks this morning -- he told me he was from the same school, and calculating backwards I figured he should be in volumes '91 and '92 -- that I was lost beyond recall, that the inveterate projector of love stories that could never be had taken over. I had this romantic notion I wouldn't be able to locate him in the litany of blank-eyed faces, but there he was. Easily the best looking boy in his class. And already unavailable.
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