Perhaps

Perhaps he is small, short, reedy, weak. Perhaps he wears thick glasses that need to be pushed up the nose every now and then. Perhaps he keeps folded papers with tiny writing in his dress-shirt pocket, and a couple of pens of different colors to update them. Perhaps his book-bag is almost more than he can carry.

Perhaps she is different, not part of the social set. Perhaps she is absolutely gorgeous but doesn’t seem aware of it or to care about it. Perhaps she does too well on tests, or reads too many books, or speaks too strangely for her friends to understand. Perhaps her maturity is daunting, her concentration and foresight too mysterious to deal with. Perhaps it is easier to label her as odd and go plan the sock-hop.

Perhaps the teachers seem a little different with them, in ways that are hard to interpret — smiling, strangely, in an undecipherable way.

Perhaps they see each other across a busy classroom.

Perhaps a note leads to a meeting.

Perhaps a meeting leads to a lifetime.

Perhaps it is paradise.

— Frenulum