In the 11th grade in spirit of Valentine\’s Day for Spanish class, we were to write an essay on love. Anything. Anybody.

Simply to demonstrate and exercise our basic knowledge of the language.

I wrote about my current obsession that week. A boy. Who in my naivete, I believe there was something going on. (Turns out later, he used me for my \”intelligence\”, but that\’s another story completely.)

I wrote…Hablamos mucho durante la noche. Hablamos sobre familia, sobre amor, y sobre vida.

A week later, I got back the essay where my Spanish teacher simply wrote \”I am happy for you.\” By that time, I had lost interest and was embarrassed that I had written such an essay in a moment of teenage obsession.

But I am so like that. Sentimental and fickle.

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