You know how when you first lose someone special to you, how you still perk up a little when you hear their name...like you're hoping its them or something? I was like that for a long time...it never really went away.
On the first day of school, when my wounds were just a few months old--or fresh I should say--my history teacher said his name. Mr Kendall was calling the year's first attendance when out of nowhere he called, "Louis Miller."
My head jerked up so quick that I almost cracked my neck. I had scanned the room in seconds looking for his sweet face. No Louis...ouch...
I was also the first in the whole room to say that he had moved. My voice was loud and hollow. I even suprised myself. "He moved", I had said...as simple as that, but I sounded like I was dead or something...it had this weird little echo in our small classroom. Needless to say, I got some pretty nasty stares from my friends. It was just that I was so shocked.
If he had stayed...he would of been in my history class. I smiled.