Gilbert sat at the edge of his bed. It was 7:34 in the morning. Kimberly had not yet passed his house. That was a curious thing. He didn't remember that happening over the past year. All through the fall. And winter. Spring, and now the beginning of summer. She always walked to the high school from the same directions, following the same path, and every morning he stood by his window to catch a glimpse of her. That's all he needed really. Just a glimpse. He'd wait in his room, shading himself in the shadows, or peeking from behind his open closet door, just enough so his slight line of the front walkway was framed by the edge of his window. But this morning he wouldn't get a glimpse.
His mother had already called for him to come down into the kitchen for breakfast. His father would undoubtedly be shouting up the stairs in a minute or two. And if he'd wait any longer he surely risk being late for the first bell. But he didn't feel like moving. The bright sunny morning was suddenly in a kind of disarray and something deep inside him, oddly, gave him the sense that something very wrong was going on. Or had gone on. And that part of him made him hesitant to throw on some jeans and a T-shirt and hustle down to the kitchen.
His mother had already called for him to come down into the kitchen for breakfast. His father would undoubtedly be shouting up the stairs in a minute or two. And if he'd wait any longer he surely risk being late for the first bell. But he didn't feel like moving. The bright sunny morning was suddenly in a kind of disarray and something deep inside him, oddly, gave him the sense that something very wrong was going on. Or had gone on. And that part of him made him hesitant to throw on some jeans and a T-shirt and hustle down to the kitchen.
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