Although our group was quite small – just under 20 people – I didn’t know everyone at first, because about a third of us were boys from a class we hardly ever crossed paths with in the school halls before, or after. However, the train ride was quite long, so we soon learned everyone’s names. Despite this, we still stuck to our usual circle of friends, laughing hysterically, cracking joke after joke, and enjoying the time away from our parents.=) Juice and chocolate were basically all we sustained ourselves on; I have no idea how or why nobody ended up with the most severe stomach ache.

We arrived safely in the city and checked into the student dormitory. When we weren’t going on the pre-arranged tours, which were delightful and interesting, we explored the nearby streets, bridges, shops, and cathedrals on our own, while enjoying juice and soda, eating chocolate, laughing, talking, taking photos, and listening to music. I loved the Stripped album so much that it was playing on my CD player non-stop, and when it wasn’t, the melodies and lyrics kept playing in my head. One song caught my attention more than the others. I had to look up the translation of its title because it was a completely new word for me. When I understood its meaning, the lyrics made so much more sense and even brought a new level of appreciation for the song. But not only that. I felt like the song was written for me and about me (as all teenage girls do, apparently=)), because this curiosity and attraction had truly taken me by surprise, and I was being carried away by this new, unfamiliar thing that suddenly had a name, “infatuation”.

You immediately stood out to me among your classmates. Your skin wasn’t as deeply cinnamon-colored as Aguilera puts it in the song, but you were definitely not as pale as the rest of us. And your brown eyes, paired with your gorgeous kind smile, truly hypnotized me every time they met mine in the dormitory halls. We were clearly aware of each other, but we never really spoke, and I envied your friends who interacted and laughed with you so freely. Besides, it was all quite foreign to me: I could hardly keep my cool when you were around, while simultaneously falling apart on the inside, and I was actually breathless a couple of times when I saw your eyes light up after noticing me. But you never made it any easier for me: you simply passed by, smiling as broadly and openly as only you could.

So, when I had lost almost all hope because by the time we got on the train to go back home, we had only exchanged a few Hellos, I couldn’t believe my eyes when I passed your compartment with the freshly-washed apple in my hands and saw you reading by yourself, with all your friends mysteriously gone. I’m not sure what came over my normally timid self at that moment, but I stepped in and asked if you wanted me to share the apple with you. Getting an enthusiastic “Sure, yeah!” from you, I lost all the fear and dared sit down next to you. I’m smiling now because, surprisingly, talking with you turned out to be very easy and enjoyable. The apple, that we had cut in half, was really big and crunchy, which gave me a valid excuse to stay and chat longer. Sitting so close to you, I immediately noticed a faded weird-looking scar on your left hand. When I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, “It looks as if you ironed your hand” and you replied in a nonchalant but slightly shocked manner, “I did, actually, when I was about three or four”, I think we both knew right away that we had just bonded in a way that neither of us could have predicted or explained.