Young Love
by
T. J. Robertson
Smashwords Edition
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Copyright © 2011 by T. J. Robertson
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Her name was Nancy. That's all I knew then and that's all I know now.
The agony of the final exam period had just ended and a college friend had invited me to unwind at a dance somewhere outside of Boston.
In the dimly-lit, barn-like hall, I saw her. Whether it was her bewitching blue eyes, her infectious smile, or the gentle arch of her supple figure as she leaned elegantly against a near wall that caught my fancy, I'm not sure. All I know is that I found her to be very attractive and, at that moment, I felt like an errant planet being irresistibly drawn into orbit around the sun.
It happened so quickly--the glance, the smile, and the electricity.
"Pardon me. May I have this dance?"
"Yes, of course."
"My name's Tom."
"Hi, Tom. I'm Nancy."
We danced and the music played on and on.... Soon the night was gone.
Then came the pain of parting.
"May I see you again?"
"Yes, I'd like that."
"How can I get in touch with you?"
From her sequin purse she took out a pen and, on a napkin, upon which we had shared some refreshments, she wrote down the information I so desperately wanted. Then, having folded it, she placed it in my shirt pocket and, smiling, whispered, "Keep it close to your heart."
Out in the cool evening air we walked to the parking lot in silence. I remember the soft touch of her hand before she got into her car. A smile and wave later, she had disappeared.
Arriving home late, I left my clothes in a pile on the bedroom floor, climbed into bed, and slept as never before.
Shortly before noon the next morning I awoke and immediately reached for my shirt. Gone! Leaping from my bed, I raced into the kitchen, nearly knocking my mother over. "Ma, ma, where's my shirt?"
"Why, Tom, I just this minute got through washing it," she chided. "You left a tissue in your pocket and pieces of it are all over the inside of the washing machine."
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