At work, if a corporate looking woman arrived, usually just to visit arelative, before they would announce their intent I would wonder tomyself. 'Is t...is her? Is she here for me?'But it never was.As the weeks ticked by my rational self realized it was neverhappening. She was never coming back for me. But my emotional selfwould not let go of the ideal. It entered my dreams. I had a visualrepresentation of the woman I imagined she'd be. An attractivedistinguished woman. And our life together with. Of course in high school I was a simple guy, a bit different from the rest of the people where I grew up. I had a direction and a purpose; where most k**s were interested in going to parties and getting drunk (and maybe a peek if they were lucky), I wanted to study and make something of myself. You know the kind. Poor white trash trying to make something of himself; the k** in the corner with the glasses held together by tape, calculator in hand. If this were an earlier age, he'd be trying. More

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