Those secret seafoam places that drip and

part in lovers' waves,

that's where she broke the bones.

The pelicans dance in midnight oils

to kiss the burn away,

And swells roll in their shade.

Hidden in-between cracks where tongue

meets haunted oblivion,

her spell is burnt in another's lips.

And when Poseidon calls to him that

nymph of gilded steel,

she melts away in clouds of cosmic

Slips and shards of coloured silk.

She is mine,

And in her there is a destiny encased

In eternal cloud and flame. It glints

heavy against the pane

Of tiny glass that holds us close together.

Et ainsi, le moqueur chante.

We were both the last two to class. Both late. Chemistry lab. She was paired with me by that happenstance. Perhaps by fate. I already felt guilty. There was no way I would have been paired with her if we arrived to lab on time. She was so out of my league, I wasn't even permitted passed the gates to watch the game. Or so I felt.

The first assignment was a joke. I could have done it with my eyes closed, a lobotomy, and my left hand cut off. I was half way done with it, before the TA even got past the introduction. I was finished with it before he was half way through the explanation. I taught the beautiful creature that got the unfortunate luck of being paired with me, the troll that I was, everything about what we were suppose to do in the span of the third quarter of the TA's driveling on the topic.

Before he finished, we did the whole assignment again, but this time I let her do it to make sure she learned it. (I valued learning and never wanted to deny it to another if I happened to already know the subject matter myself)

We were polite enough to wait 5 minutes after the TA finished yacking to hand in our work. The bastard looked at me, seeing the trollish geek that I was and in spite of us, asked her to demonstrate her 'vast knowledge' in front of the class for perhaps 'she could teach them something he missed'.

She did the task like she lived in the lab for years. Fuck she was amazing. The look on the TA's surprised face was priceless.

Two and a half hour lab, and we were gone in 45 minutes. Ten of those because the TA was a smug bastard that got shown up. Those ten minutes were worth it.

As we left, she asked if I would be interested in coffee. I was an honest fool and said I hated coffee. Regretted the words even as they were leaving my mouth.

You do not say no to coffee, to a woman like this you idiot!

She laughed. "How about some hot cocoa then?"

So we went to a cafe, and shared more than a few cups of cocoa and laughed and began the process of falling in love...

Funny thing, since that point in time, I always dread being on time for anything, because of the one magical moment when I was late.

Nat King Cole's Unforgettable, put Quill in a good mood. Eyes closed, he was sitting on a playground bench, the ear buds providing a nice, insulted quiet. He began falling into the earth, traveling weightlessly towards the center. King's voice stripped him of everything in this world. All disappeared as he fell quietly into a comfortable, dark place.

This happened often with Quill. There are certain songs that give him the sensation that he is being dropped. It’s not the genre that matters, nor the singer. He can’t point out what these songs have in common.

His stomach twists, and butterflies attack. His breathing deepens as he becomes aware. The air is crisp, the sun is warm, and he smiles. But, it’s short lived as it turns into a frown. The air was suddenly heavy, and he gets the sensation that something nearby is burning. He’s still falling, but grey clouds were starting to envelope him. The clouds came in waves, getting stronger with each push. Quill coughs, struggling to maintain his freefall. He opened his eyes.

The girl was crouching, arm on her knee. Her face was leaning in towards Quill. She inched closer and pulled the cigarette away from her red lips. She exhaled and tears formed in his eyes.

“What are you listening to? You look so peaceful.” She said, almost in a whisper. The white fluff intensified and the wind carried more depth. Some of the parents were staring at them.

“Unforgettable, by Nat King Cole. You know it?” She ignored the question, sat next to him, took one of his headphones and closed her eyes, listening quietly. It took one glance for him to know she was beautiful. Short black hair and a clean classic look: qualities Quill appreciated. But her abstract clothing and aggressive demeanor threw him off.

The song came to an end. She wrote on a piece of paper, handed it to him, and left the playground.