Pounding The Keyboard

The first time he saw her, they were in a room filled with ten or more women. She was seated and had her back on him, her long hair hanging gloriously on her back, yet he knew her face stood out in that room. And he learned he was right when she glanced at his direction—and he saw her face. Pretty, nay, sublime. No conversation between them occurred. He felt a tug at his heartstrings, but he quickly put it away. A face like that can't possibly be single, he thought and strode out of the room. He went home and swept her out of his mind. The second time he saw her, it was after more than a year, they were in a room filled with six or more men. She was seated in front of him, across the table, her eyes staring at a floor beneath her— yet he knew she wished she was on another ground. Pretty, nay, sublime.  A conversation between them occurred. He again felt a tug at his heartstrings, now stronger, but he quickly put it away. A face like that wo

       Looking for a piece of an old document, Jude pulled open a cabinet drawer and saw a small box inside, and inside the box, he saw old keys,   a broken watch, an earphone, a couple of small binder clips, a torn bookmark and a tattered candy wrapper—basically, garbage all, except for the binder clips.        He had just thrown the box (and its contents) into a trash can when he remembered what the candy wrapper was.        Many years ago, Jude was around fifteen years old (and in third year high school) when he became strongly infatuated with a girl a year older than him. To say that she was pretty would be a gross understatement, in his young eyes, her beauty transcended ethereal.        She studied in a different school but lived just across the house of Jude’s classmate and almost every day, during vacant periods, Jude, pretending to converse with his classmate, would watch her (let’s call her Mary-Ann) from across the street. He didn’t have the nerve to