prelude

they speak to one another through held glances, exasperated sighs and sharp, nervous movements. in hushed, dead languages i'd never understand. messages tapped through oak tables to each other.

they seemed so elite-the way they carried themselves; an unattainable and glorious confidence i lacked. they, known or unknowingly, flaunted their effortless perfection and intimidated nearly everyone they came in contact with.

i wanted so badly to join their ranks. out of curiosity? loneliness? the thrill of being able to say i know them? why, i wasn't exactly sure, i felt this burning need to get close to them when they had paid little to no attention to me at all.