I thought first love would arrive loudly.
Like the novels I hid inside my mathematics books.
Like dramatic confessions beneath the rain.
Like flowers, letters, and unforgettable speeches.
Instead, mine arrived quietly.
Through unfinished algebra problems.
Through winter mornings inside a noisy classroom.
Through arguments across a shared desk.
And through a boy named Arone —
the most annoying person I had ever met.
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