Ten years from now Tim Dickson won't even remember my name. The unknowingrecipient of my undying love for two years, Tim had been everything a girl couldever ask for: smart, handsome, witty, and athletic, with a voice that could makeangels weep. Everyone knew his name. To a shy little country mouse, nearlyinvisible in our student body, he was the epitome of manliness. I sat in mycorner of room C-119 and gazed adoringly at his profile as he amazed the classof Modern World History with his dashing style. Carefully planning the routes tomy classes to coincide with his, I was his silent shadow.
After fourteen months, contrary to my hopes, Tim still was not aware of myexistence. Determined to bring myself to his attention, I staged my entrance tohis heart with all the flair I could muster. I would breach his defenses at thenext history oral presentation in the guise of the dashing CardinalRichelieu.
It was now or never! Striding into the classroom, my head raised, eyesflashing, I stood proudly, the colors of my eighteenth-century costume catchingthe light and giving me courage. My opening line shook with tight emotion."Gentlemen, I am disgusted!" My voice alternately lashed out in rage and purredin soft persuasion. I gloried in my elocution. Each word was power. My voicerose to a brilliant conclusion, and I stood with my arms outstretched and myhead bowed in submission.
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