We were in class, seated next to each other. The teacher had left the room after she handed out mock papers, leaving the both of us alone.
You always carry your black headphones, as if you were born with it. It died that day. You pulled out a pair of wired earphones. Why's everything you own black? The earphone, enough for two ears to occupy.
Boredom got the best of me. You offered me a listen, and I had to no reason to refuse. Our hands touched, barely. I brought my chair closer, I could smell your cologne. Our heads got closer as we plugged the earphone in sync, gradually losing all proximity until it stopped pulling at us, such a tease. Our knees touched, but we stayed put, not caring to move. We maintained occasional eye contact, especially during the best parts of the song.
The door opened, caught off guard, our eyes shot to a list of questions, no progress whatsoever to dodge her offers to provide feedback.
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