I still remember the first time I saw her. I was younger, younger than I am now, I was about fifteen. It was a crisp October morning; I was on my way to school, the leaves swishing in the wind around me, crunching underfoot. She was walking towards me on the opposite side of the road. Her steps were like air, her presence floated into the space between us, and as we passed she gave just a glimmer of a smile that stopped me in my tracks. She continued walking effortlessly down the street, leaving me in the middle of the road, awestruck on my way to school. I wasn’t all too preoccupied with this mystery girl then, as I would soon become. I didn’t think about her after that, but a couple of times I could’ve sworn I saw her, yet a prolonged second glance, squashed my hopes of seeing her again.
It wasn’t for another three months until I saw her a second time. It was during study hall, after the cool kids had told me to leave their table. I was looking around for a free table when a lofty voice called out to me, “This table’s free.” I can still recall those first ever so precious words.

It was her. And when I think about it now, I wonder how she could ever have slipped my notice. She was different than the other girls, dressed nice, hair brushed into a long and thin ponytail. Her face too, resembled something from my far distant memory. The wider lips, inward set eyes, and slender nose. I walked over to her table; she smiled at me, more than a glimmer this time, revealing two sets of straight, white teeth. The table groaned as I sat down on the bench across from her. My mind raced for the right words, expressions, phrases, to put my thoughts into words. Thankfully, she spoke, delivering me from my inevitable babbling.

"Hello, I'm Lindsay," she spoke softly enough so that her whispery voice just barely was audible as I leaned in to listen closely.

"I'm Stephen." And not even now can I truly remember exactly the words that we exchanged; only her very existence has been branded into my memory. From any bystander it would be two students talking, but it was more than that. For after that one conversation, she was my world, my everything. I could not let her go, yet somehow I felt that she couldn’t let me go either. This feeling, this state of being, does not occur often, so when it does, we as humans grab hold of it, embrace it, and live for the prospect of young love. We hope that there is that one person that we are meant to find, to be with, and when we finally meet them, we never let them go. And I couldn’t help but fantasize that Lindsay was the one, as the days went by I realized that she was the only girl out there for me. She was smart, funny, creative and caring. She was pretty, but more than pretty, she was there for me all the time, as I was there for her. She had it all; it was everything anyone could ever ask of a whirlwind romance, with a girl that stole your heart as she was walking down the street. We were together all the time, doing homework, hanging out, enjoying each other’s company. Looking back on it now, I did distance myself from others, granted I had every reason to, I didn’t need them, I had Lindsay. She was certainly a point of conflict between my mom and I, when my mom actually was talking to me. That was the thing about my mom. Ever since the accident, she would just sit there, in the middle of the living room, on the oversized, tattered plaid chair, holding an empty bottle, long after she finished it, and staring into space. My mom just thought that Lindsay was a joke. At first I could just ignore the snide comments or the muttering under her breath, but soon it grew to be a bother. I became closer to Lindsay than my mother, for my mother thought that I was just like her, that the decisions that she made, were soon to be my own. And even though I knew differently, I was forced to go easy on my mom, she had it rough, as we all did back then. But then came the day where she crossed a line, and not one of the many excuses I made for her could cover it. That was the day she told me that Lindsay was not real. I can recollect the moment, her standing in the middle of the doorway, wearing one of dad’s old, baggy sweatshirts, hair tangled, with dark bags under her once blue eyes. She stared blankly at me, took a sip of beer, and then spit the words into my face, “ For God’s sake Steve! Get over yourself already! She’s not real! She’s not in love with you, why would you think anyone could ever be? You say that she loves you, you say that you hang out, that you spend time together, but you don’t! I’ve never seen her once! This is merely a way for attention! A way to trick yourself into thinking that you are worth something! That someone out there actually cares about you! But no one does! No one cares!”

" And how did that make you feel?"
"Like maybe she has a point, that maybe there is a chance that I made the whole thing up without knowing it."
"Well, what do you think, did you? Is Lindsay real to you today?"
"She always has been."
"So there's a reason you are here today, what are you looking for?"
" I just need some advice, what am I supposed to do? She's my everything, I can't just cast her away after people tell me she's not there. I mean, is she? Do you know her? Have you met her?"
"Perhaps, describe me to her, maybe then I will know. Can you still describe her?"
" Of course. She is about my age, the years have taken the edge off of her, yet she still has the purest porcelain colored skin, with those deep chocolate inward set eyes, that you can get lost in. Her face is adorned with creases of wisdom and time, full lips now puckered, but that smile. The smile that can light up a room, with the smallest glimpse of her two sets of perfectly smooth teeth. Her hair, slowly turning gray with age, still has hints of golden brown in it. And her, the kindest woman I've ever met. I don't need anyone else, I've never needed anyone else. Not my mom or even my dad, because I have her. And I still have her, I know I do. But is she real?"
"Yes, of course. Well, She’s been with you all your life, no? It’s not worth it to let her go now. If you know and think in your heart that she is real, then she is the realest a human can ever be."
"Enjoy the rest of your day, Mr. Vitner!"