Real Mature #1

Numero Uno

A Second Glance


My first purchase as an adult, Sailyn thought triumphantly. She looked happily at the kawaii, pink plastic, panda cookie-cutters. You can do better than that, the back of her mind retorted. Buy a vegetable for god’s sake. Or at least a cake pan. 

Scowling, Sail slam-dunked the cute cutters into her basket and moved on. Leaning over the handle bars, she glanced at her list. Paper towels. She really didn’t need the panda cookie cutters but it was something personal, something that she felt that she had every right to hang onto in the next chapter of her life. Moving to the next aisle, she mindlessly searched. Finally, she was able to spot them – two shelves up from her head. The giant rolls of plush hand paper hung mockingly over her head. Pushing aside her cart to a safe distance, she approached the shelf. Placing her feet firmly on the bottom one, she grasped onto the next one and attempted to reach. Her fingers barely reached the desired shelf. Come on, I can do this. With a small hop, her fingers grazed the plastic edge but to no avail. I’m making more of a fool of myself than I’m actually getting anything accomplished, she thought irritably.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and plucked the paper towels from its keep. Surprised, she slid off the shelf and whipped around. As her eyes met the good Samaritan, her heart stopped. Time suddenly froze and she felt her insides collaspe. She was eye-to-eye with the boy who only occupied her daydreams in recent days.

The boy was now a young man. His face had lost it’s baby fat and his once lanky body exaggerated by his height was now filled out with muscles and man flesh. Coarse blonde hair ran from down his jawline and congregated on his chin. His hazel eyes were frozen with shock, too, as they stood frozen.

“Jace,” Sailyn managed to breathe and her world exploded into memories.

It was a normal day at Kindred Middle School. Sailyn sat at her sixth grade desk, writing in her English journal. Her thoughts were on her stories, ones that she would stay up late at night to conjure for the next day. The room was gently playing with some music and all the students murmured away in their journals. Like a slight twitch, she could feel the room shift curiously. Glancing up, she saw a young boy stand in the doorway, shyly, with the secretary’s hand gently set on his shoulder. In a small school like this, there are hardly anyone you wouldn’t know. She could feel the amounting excitement permeate the room as the teacher approached the boy. 

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