The Exact Opposite of a Growing Perpetuity

Chapter One

1
#sprinkles

Consistent payments that grow in amounts forever, or to an infinite point of time (or something along those lines, I never really liked quantitative courses) was what my professors defined growing perpetuity to be. That being, in financial terms, for my Investment Method of Valuation course. What the love of my life meant here was me, my beauty growing every day and forever. At least, that is how it was back then.

I remember every single moment as if it had just happened. I remembered every single moment between us, and I had thought that I knew you like I knew the back of my hand. It all happened so quickly. I was falling, I was falling, and I could have sworn I knew what I was doing. I could have sworn I knew what I was getting myself into. I was falling, but you were not there to catch me.

The floor was concrete.

Entering the library located in the most unadorned buildings of our university, I only had one intention. I needed the course textbook. I had approached the librarian sitting there, I asked him about the text required for this specific course, and he muttered a couple of sarcastic comments that I did not quite get.

"Come on, do not mess with her," a voice spoke up from right behind me. I turned around and peered at the male that sat casually at the wooden table set right by the entrance. I had not noticed you when I came in.

Your voice sounded familiar, but I could not quite place my finger on it yet. I thank the librarian for his unnecessary drag of sarcastic comments that took me long enough to understand that there, in fact, was not a book that exists for this course; and walk up to the man that had voiced his opinion earlier. You.

"You should really just study from the slides," you said, your eyebrows rising above the thick jet-black frames that surrounded your eyes. Cocking a brow, a smirk formed itself onto my face. People never got that. I do not study from "slides." PowerPoint presentations are made for lecturers or presenters to use the bullet points to jog their memory. I did not need to jog my memory. I needed to put something into my memory.

"You don't get it," I said, letting out a small sigh. "I cannot study from the slides. I need a physical book, bulks of information that I can just inhale and choose from. It's quite complicated to explain..." I trailed off, looking up at you. I was not sure where my droning was going; this is usually where people would run away. You sat there, listening to me intently. Your hands casually crossed over your well-defined chest.

And so I continued, "When you only have a little information, you tend to forget some parts of it. You are just plain arse screwed. But when you've got bulks of information to choose from, and you forget small parts of it, you can bullshit your way around it during the exams."

"It does make sense. I get that."

You get that. But did you really? Or was it just one of those moments where people would only say that so that you could stop talking? Where do I go from here? Do I excuse myself and walk away, or do I continue some form of God knows where this conversation is going, type of conversation?

"Where are you from?" you asked, your hands unfolding and make their way to the keyboard where you were randomly juggling between the left and right arrow, the slides of the PowerPoint moving quickly. I looked up at you, and my eyes made contact with yours, and God were they warm. They were warm and kind. The most benevolent chocolate brown eyes that I had ever seen. I almost lost track of time. Almost. I looked away.

I told you where I was from. I had no idea what got me to say that; I spent my entire life trying to hide my heritage, having to feel embarrassed about it, or about who I was because of the way I was made to feel; like I was somehow less of a human being than anyone else who has stepped foot into this country.