
Once again, I can't help but notice how simple she is. A simple pair of jeans, a modest top with a stole encircling her neck and her face devoid of any form of makeup, she is still one of the prettiest girls of school. She is the embodiment of what I've heard since childhood: 'Simplicity is beauty'. I would have believed it was only me who feels this way if I didn't have to see the looks of admiration on the faces of most boys of our class. But I still wonder if she is aware of her beauty. It seems like she is oblivious to these matters. And to me.
All these years, I have admired her from a distance. I can never gather up the courage to talk to her. My lack of courage surprises me because in my friends' opinion, I'm one of the most straight-forward and outspoken people of the class. Maybe it's because she is not the usual girl; the loud, gossip-loving creatures that they are. She is aloof and she is mysterious. Perhaps that is what pulls me towards her.
She passes me in the corridor as the bell rings and she doesn't notice me. I save myself the embarrassment of being caught staring at her by opening the book in my hand in the nick of time. As I see her going towards the stairs, I wish I can talk to her. Ask her to be friends with me. But that is all I do - just wish - as she disappears outside the college gates.