An Ode to Zach

Or Zack.
I'm not really sure.

I'm sorry I thought poorly of you.
For some reason, I thought you rather disliked, ever since English last year.
I'm pretty sure I misjudged you.

I thought I wasn't the only one skipping class.
(It was just seminary, and I couldn't take it.)
Turns out you don't have a class to skip.
We watched the video in silence, all alone in the big empty hall.
You were displeased, and I had to agree.
We had a moment there, talking without reservation,
I voicing my frustration and you your resignation.
It seemed like you were getting choked up as you got caught up.
Maybe I imagined it.

A smile, one of the first.

This morning, I found a pair of strange cards in the bathroom.
This afternoon, as I skipped yet again, you held the card in your hand.
The blue envelope brought us together again.
We laughed at the absurdity of the invitation and the situation.
We stumbled over awkwardly mangled statements and then parted ways.
That is, after you quietly watched me spin for a minute.

You are a stranger to me.
And yet, our relations have doubled in in number and positivity.
The past two days have been wonderful examples that two people can connect.
I didn't know you, and yet, we still could talk.
Even if only fairly negaive.
And a tad bit accusatory.

But it's fine.
Like seriously.
I just wanted to say thanks for smiling and talking to me like I matter.

Thanks.