As I stand above your burial place, which I’ve lined with red post-its, engraved with Sharpie scribbles of all the adjectives I could use to describe you, I am reminded of how I captured your heart…

On Wednesday, October 16th, a confidential, fateful, neon green daydream fluttered into your backpack, a consequence of my constant, absent-minded doodling and jotting I should have forseen. I had peered into your backpack on a few occasions before and judging by your extremely neat pencil box and tidy notebooks, figured you’d find it that night if not sooner.

I also figured that if I tried to retrieve it, I’d make a fool of myself, so I developed an ingenius plan. Every few days, I’d drop another doodle, assuming you’d get the picture. Then, I arrived early, and placed a maroon post-it with my name and number on your desk.

As I’m rummaging through your things, I uncover your collection of post-its, arranged in a heart with a photograph of us, a post-it in your handwriting stuck to it – “I love you, Jack”