the s e v e n t h letter

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Dear Hunter,

We had sixth period Chemistry together on a Thursday. That is one of the many tiny details I remember when I think about you.

The first Thursday after our encounter in the locker room, you were late for class, the last lesson of the day. The only free seat was next to mine, so you had no choice but to take it. I couldn't help the ecstatic, hopeful feeling that spread through my body when you pulled the chair from beneath the desk, flung your rucksack to the ground and sat down.

That was when we were told about that project, that perfectly timed project, the one that brought us closer together.

The cliché girl-meets-boy-and-then-they-are-randomly-paired-off-for-a-project.

Details such as the name of the project have long since slipped my mind. I do, however, remember the plans we made during the lesson for myself to come to your house in order to work on it together. To you it was nothing, but to me it was everything. I was delighted. Then you gave me your phone number, in case for some reason I might wish to call you about the project.

I was on top of the world on that day. It was one of the most wonderful feelings I'd experienced at that point. Usually I wouldn't have believed in love at first sight. Since I met you, I didn't think looks could define a person in any way — and still I don't, as I think it was your charming personality that caused my love for you to deepen — yet from the moment I first laid eyes upon you I was captivated.

I kept trying to convince myself that I didn't like you like that, that I was just desperate for a friend after so many years of being alone. I didn't even know if I believed it.

All my love, always,
Maia.

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