I saw her from across the yard. She was sitting at a picnic table with her friends, and they were all laughing about something.

She was pretty, I decided. Not amazing, but pretty. She was wearing simple cloths, nothing really noticeable. Something was scribbled on the back of her hand, but I couldn’t make it out from where I was sitting, so far away.

Still I was staring at her. Nothing else to look at, I guess.

But then, she covered her mouth as she grinned at some joke that I couldn’t make out. She wasn’t laughing loudly, like her friends, she just had a hand over her mouth.

A faint smile came to my lips as well, subconciously, as I watched.

And then she looked up over her still laughing friends’ heads, hand still over her mouth. And our eyes met, and she was staring back.

And then, I guess, I looked down quickly, looked away, didn’t keep eye contact, embarassed for staring, for somehow sharing in their joy that wasn’t mine.

But she looked back at me, and that was something, I guess.