The only time I saw Gary
the next week was on Monday
(a rainy, dreary Monday, too)
as we were leaving for the buses.
I smiled at him,
but his eyes were cold,
all quirky expressions
gone from his face.
He shoved a crumpled
sheet of paper
into my hand
and disappeared into the crowd.
I was tempted to uncurl the paper
from its tight ball and read it
right then and there,
but the tide of students pushed me
out the door.
My heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Is it a confession? A break-up note?
A make-up note?
What is it?