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When you were in school, there was a teacher. A gym teacher, in violation of all the stereotypes. She was kind, and friendly, always concerned about you and doting on you like a loving mother. It's the most predictable thing in the world that she was your first love. But you were younger then than you are now, and you graduated without ever telling her about your feelings, and didn't see her again.
Until one day you found a letter in your mailbox. An invitation. To her wedding.
Long neglected emotions come welling up like a leak in a ship's hull, and you pay her a visit several days ahead of time in order to do something incredibly stupid.
More emotions running high:
The Tragedy of Incestuous Love
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- 2 years ago
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