Three minutes until the end of class and I'm staring at him, glasses almost falling off the bridge of his nose. I pull out a notebook and rip off a piece of paper. Two minutes.
I think a moment, and begin to write. I fold up the piece of paper and place it on his desk. One minute. He finishes doodling on the note, then unfolds mine and reads it. He looks at me, stands up, and collects his things. Thirty seconds. He's holding his backpack over one shoulder, and the note to the girl in the other, and he has this sort of sad expression.
Five seconds.
The note, it read, "I miss having you wait for me after class."
Me, I say, "Goodbye."
The bell rings.
He walks out of class next to the girl he's been flirting with.
I'm getting ten different kinds of drunk tonight.