A 2046 Love Story

She entered the classroom,

pretty, too pretty,

with those ballet buns,

blue-on-blue school dress,

long white socks

and

those kung fu shoes.

I was walking on air.

The feelings were unmistakable, unmistakably crushing.

I was an innocent, pre-pubescent boy.

I was a "goody two-shoes" ,

Roll Number One, who always won.

Until

her name was Tara.

Of course, the name didn't help.

Kathmandu's load-sheded night sky,

every song and poem,

she was everywhere.

Written in every quiet corner,

in the secret spaces between pages,

on every book spine.

the only reason

my handwriting improved.

Apparently there were protests,

bullets,

and

martyrs.

It was 2046.

I should remember a lot more.