He walks down the hallway, moving to the side to allow his peers to pass. He picks up a pencil, dropped by the prom queen and gets more of a, “Thank you,” from the wind than her. He gives away his last pack of gum to the football players, just because they know he will.

He looks at her from the corner of his eye. She turns around, but his gaze already lies back on his papers. He lets her copy his answers when she asks, but she still doesn’t know his name. But he savors every moment of the day because he thinks that benevolence counts as love.

If only he knew it didn’t.