Adam fell in love with the back of her head. Adam sat a few seats behind her in a poetry class in his freshman year at university, and was fascinated with the redness of her hair, the little glints of copper and gold that glinted when the sunlight shone through the classroom window. He was too young to be drafted away to the war in France, and his sister Mary hadn’t died yet from the Spanish flu. His heart was open; he was eighteen and had never been in love before.

She was the only one in the class that always wore her hair down. The other girls, none of them older than twenty, pinned their long hair tightly to their heads, showing off their long necks and making them look older, sophisticated, and untouchable. They reminded Adam of slightly younger versions of his mother’s friends; cool, collected, and bored. The red headed one looked like a faun, like something out of a painting, like a girl raised in the woods. Even her eyes were like something from far away, another world, another planet. They were a strange sort of dark blue that was almost black, and they were usually sad and startled looking.  But when she spoke in class, to recite or to answer one of the professor’s questions,  her voice was soft and even. Confident.


"... all my lovers were there with me, all my past and futures."

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