at school
called Hailey.
I dead fancied her.
She was beautiful,
in a boyish way.
She was dead good
at gymnastics.
Once, I'd brought these
chocolates
into school.
We all must have been
eleven, or twelve.
I was standing at these doors
open slightly,
peeping out the gap
at her and a couple of her friends
surrounding her
standing on a verge.
Hailey saw me, and whispered
into one of their ears.
The girl came over to me.
'Robert, we all know
you fancy Hailey.
Can she
have some chocs?'
Of course I obliged.
I felt thrilled!
I also had the sense
of feeling a little used.
And a slighter sense
that this trend would continue.
But never mind that!
She must like me!
These days,
I wonder where Hailey is,
what she's up to,
who she's with,
got any kids?
Her partner might be
a right arsehole.
I think what it might be like
to bump into her.
Oh, hi, Hailey!
Robert?
Yeah! So, how are things?
Well, you know, kids
blah blah blah. You?
Me? Oh, pretty good!
Maybe she'd sense
that now I had
more than just chocolate.
Something she really wanted.
Needed.
Maybe I'd withhold it.
But you know what?
To behave like that
would be no better
than that eleven-year-old girl,
that breaker of sensitive boys' hearts,
and no better
than the grown woman's
imaginary
piece-of-dirt partner.
Truth is, I don't think much about Hailey.
But I hope she's happy.
She can keep the chocolates.
It was a nice memory.
Just something that happened.
One of those things.
You learn from 'em.
I'm still learning.
Still growing up.
I'm getting there.
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