I was a mere fourteen years old when meeting her for the first time. I’d just started high school and was getting accustomed to my new courses when out of the corner of my eye, a girl took a seat right on the front row in our English class. I saw her before knowing what I was truly looking at—, or for. Long lashes with dark, downcast eyes. Probably scribbling something in her notebook. She wore black from head to toe. It matched her aura and pulled me in like a magnet. The teacher started role-call when I first heard her voice. Something about the way she spoke in lower tones made my soul want to console her own. An innate empathy. She was always deep in thought over something. I was envious that it wasn’t me she was thinking of. So I got closer —, needing to know more about her.