Prose #2

James

I met a boy by mistake. But he was the least wrong decision that anyone could make.

I saw him sitting by a lake. And thinking that I knew him, I gave him a little shake.

He was startled. I said "Hey, I'm sorry. I thought you were Ray."

He said, "No, it's okay. Nice to meet you. I'm James."

And James - he was nice. He was more than that - he was thrice. He was a joke-generating device, he gave me very useful advice and if I bump my head in my bed tomorrow when I rise, he'd be a wonderful bag of ice. He was nice. Multiplied 3 times.

But as I saw him again, and again, and again, James was no longer 3 times nice. He was, instead nice times five, then six, then seven, then five hundred thousand billion trillion - all the stars in the sky!

When did this happen? When did my life suddenly revolve around James being nice? Is this right? Is this normal? He's all I could think about at night! And in the morning, when all is boring, he is everything that I like - to think about, to try and not think about, to think about anyway... they must be right.

James is no longer 'just nice'.

James is the boy I really really like.

Like, so much.

Multiplied 3 times.

-Desimandrius