sour

You were walking with your friends downtown on a warm Saturday evening. You were laughing, taking photos by the fountain, and then you noticed them—a group of handsome guys. One, dark-haired, was walking slightly ahead and smiling. You and the girls quickly straightened up, fixed your hair, and froze in your coolest poses. You glanced at that same dark-haired guy. The guys caught up with you, he lingered on you with a strange look, but no one stopped. They passed by. You sighed in disappointment and was about to say something, when suddenly your foot caught on the cobblestones. The world flew away, and you fell to your knees with a crash. Your bag flew off. A burning shame and pain.

"Hey, are you okay?" a familiar voice. You looked up—the same dark, curly-haired guy was standing over you. "Give me your hand. Did you hurt yourself badly?"