Her
Riley’s chill. I liked him. But that didn’t excuse the fact that he’d taken the only window seat I had in all my classes. And in the back corner at that. I scanned the room for an open seat. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the seat next to her open. In a dignified manner I asked if the seat was taken. I knew it wasn’t, and by precipitating that answer I was already starting to sit when she said no. I stood up embarrassed.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sit there. I didn’t know someone sat there.” She laughed.
“Of course you didn’t know, that’s why you asked.” She threw me a smile. “I meant no as in no one sits here. You’re fine.”
“Sorry, someone’s in my seat so I thought I’d just sit here.” My cheeks were as red as the scarlet sun setting upon golden tides.
“Well chairs are for sitting, so you’re welcome to sit.” She paused for a moment looking at me. Her eyes locked with mine for a moment as brief as the flash of thunder during a humid midsummer’s night. The shock that jolted through my body made me feel as if Milgram strapped wires to my body. She gestured. “Are you going to sit?” By now my cheeks were such a deep shade of red it’s doubtful you’d find it in a crayola box. I quickly sat down.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to — I didn’t realise I was still standing.”
“Well now you’re sitting. And don’t worry, there’s no need to apologise. Looking for a seat is something we spend a good portion of our life doing.” I sat there, tapping my foot to some faint rhythm, perhaps imaginary, twiddling my thumbs, slightly turning my head to catch sight of her, but then focusing straight ahead at the slightest twitch. I didn’t know her name, but I did know she was beautiful. I had checked all the social cliques I knew of to find if anyone knew her, and nobody did. And that mysteriousness was the fuel that fed my infatuation. I wasn’t sure whether to speak or not. What might I say? Is it possible to be a greater fool than the one I have made myself out to be? She was gorgeous, and she brought out that poetic Romeo that lie within me. My heart thumped. I thought it loud as when you close the door after coming home from a late night party, hoping your parents don’t wake, every tip-toe reverberating throughout the house until you unexpectedly bump into the coat rack, and you freeze still as frozen waters.
My face was flush, my palms perspiring. I cleared my throat.
“Have you, um, applied to any colleges yet?” She casually looked up from her book and looked straight through my eyes. She smiled. Or maybe she was always smiling. I couldn’t tell, I just new that I felt light-headed and that my body was generating enough heat to melt the snow off Hoth.
“Yes I have. I’ve applied to Bowdoin, MIT, Notre Dame, Williams, and Harvey Mudd.”
“Wow, that’s a really good list of colleges.”
“Well I don’t think there’s such thing as a bad list of colleges, just ones that don’t fit you as a person.” I felt stupid for my remark. She had such a remarkable ability to make me feel special and stupid at the same time. Or maybe that was all just in my head and she spoke to me as everyone else did.
“Yeah, that — yeah that’s true.” I gave a stupid little nod and smile of agreement. “I really like Bowdoin. That’s the school that I hope to get into.”
“Oh really?” The way those words sounded soothed my anxiety a bit. I relaxed my body. She put down her book. “Yeah, Bowdoin’s a very good school. I love the area. Maine’s such a beautiful state. It’s where my family’s from.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I’ve always wanted to go to Maine. It looks so pretty. And plus I love snow, so, you know, it seems pretty cool.” She chuckled.
“You know, I love snow too. That’s typically people’s least favourite thing about Maine — not including the general lack of cities and the typical idea of ‘things to do,’ — but I just love the sense of community there. I particularly like the interior mountain area.” She chuckled a bit again. “It’s fairly rural and winters are harsh, but when I’m there, it almost feels like I’m free, and can finally breathe easy. I know that’s your typical, you know, cliché that you might have, that you feel free in nature —.” She paused and this time seemed to look more deeply into me, and for a moment, me into her. “But the thing about clich��s is that they’re often true.” I smiled. I nodded.
“Yeah, that’s true.” I thought for a moment and took in a breath, prepared to speak. “I —”
“Yo, Fleurette!” Riley interrupted. Goddamnit Riley I thought, your 0 for 2 today. But I did learn her name. Fleurette. From French no doubt, diminutive of Fleur aka flower. Little flower. Derived from the Latin word Flōs. She did say her family was from Maine so that means she’s Acadian French. My mind went over what happened so many times I lost track of what was going on around me. I was so giddy that the next time I snapped back into reality the bell was ringing. I gathered my belongings as slow as service at the DMV so that she’d be the first to leave. As she passed me I caught the saccharine scent of her perfume. I took in one of those deep breaths that doctors have you take when you get a check-up. “See you tomorrow.” She looked back at me.
“See you tomorrow.” She paused. “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Louis.”
“Louis.” She repeated, smiling. “That’s the name I’ve always wanted to name my son, if I ever have one.” She looked through my eyes again and held that stare for a moment and continued walking. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya.” I said, watching her elegant figure delicately move through the air. Her scent faded as gently as the night during sunrise.
As I left class I glanced back to where she stood talking to her friends. Glimpses of laughter, hands moving gentle strands of hair out of faces, flashes of bright smiles. Graceful figures moving as gently as falling snow. I walked to class in the daydream I believed myself in, waking up only when the final bell rung school out. I walked to the bus. What joy! I thought. There she is again! And then I saw her hand.
At home I opened the window and laid on the floor. I subjected myself to the cold for three hours hoping to feel something else. Dark clouds rumbled in the distance, and rain drops slip down my extended window pane at a Sunday morning pace. I got up to close the window and realized I had homework to do.
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GRAMMATICAL GENDER OR NOUN CLASS CATEGORIES - NEW VERSION
Gender categories refer here to the assignement of a gender to a noun which may be marked morphologically in several ways. It has nothing to do with expressing natural gender.
Masculine, feminine and neuter are characteristic of Indo-European languages. Many of them have lost the neuter like Romance languages (except romanian and asturian), Celtic languages, Baltic languages, and most Indo-Aryan languages. Some, like Dutch, Danish and Swedish have merged the masculin and the feminine into a common gender, making thus a distinction more similar to animate and inanimate.
Genderless languages are the most common: Turkic, Tungunsic, Sino-Tibetan, Mongolic, Koreanic, Japonic, Kartvelian, Pontic, Uralic, Austronesian, Austroasiatic, Tai-Kadai, Pama-Nyungan and most australian languages, Tupi-Gê-Carib, Arawan, Arawak, Na-Dene, Eskimo-Aleut, and many others in Papua and the Americas. English and Afrikaans lost all gender marking except in pronouns (he, she, it, for example).
Several diverse classes occur in most Niger-Congo languages, some Caspian/Northeast Caucasian languages, some Khoisan languages, Jarawa and Ongan (from the Andaman Islands) and some aboriginal australian languages. They may contain animal genders, vegetal genders, genders for rocks and many other categories.
Animate and inanimate gender is common in some Amerindian families such as Algic, Uto-Aztecan, Quechuan, Aymara, Mapudungun, Iroquoian, Siouan.
Burushaski and Zande have four genders, masc., fem., animate and inanimate, and some like Polish, Czech, or the Dravidian Languages have a hierarchy of animacy and gender, including masc., fem., neuter, animate and inanimate.
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