Origins of Blue Lines manuscript…Part 2.2
Disclaimer – Before I continue, I would like to make two very important points in regard to my material and to anyone’s feelings. Because of my intellectual property, and my goal for this to begin my being published, I have to be vague in many areas of the story’s actual content. I would like to add that should anyone be offended by ANYTHING that I go forward with: 1) if it will offend you, please read objectively, my goal is not and has never been to embarrass or disrespect anyone; 2) although I am explaining why Blue Lines was written, this is a public forum and names will be omitted to protect the innocent; 3) if you know me now, and did not then, this also applies as this relates to why I wrote my work.
Summer came and went, she existed as a figment of my imagination of a reminder that I missed out on this beautiful woman, but let me temper this by stating, I knew that she was from the other side of the country, and to the best of my limited knowledge, she had gone back with no plans to return, I could live with that. I continued to take classes throughout the summer, finding outlets in activities to still combat the hole left in my soul by the passing of my Grandfather. By the time the school year rolled back around, I was a member of student government (yes, it’s relevant) and part of the whole welcoming committee for the incoming students, and as I crossed the small campus to head to the gym for Student I.D. duty, I was shocked to see her walking the campus in this blue dress. I half waved, to which I got no acknowledgement, and did not think twice about it and headed to my post. As we cranked out I.D.’s, she finally makes her way in, notices me to my surprise, and we have a brief conversation that was more substantive than the car ride from the previous school year. “Yes,” I think looking toward the year. “That’s the one,” I smiled. Or so I thought. Not too long after I found out she had a boyfriend…those thoughts ended as quickly as they had begun. I’m not sure if it was a statement in passing, “my boyfriend…” or from someone else, “she has a boyfriend,” I just “knew” that was a wrap. But again, I think too much.
It began as friendly conversation,
but you were crafty in your approach
I had thought about you briefly,