When you're in love, everything is filled with the electricity of it.
Because of that, walking to the studio on Cooke street in the pouring rain wasn't as bad as it would typically be. Everything is romantic when you're in love. Even the smelly bus that dropped you off on the corner of Kapiolani and Cooke doesn't seem so bad, you know, because of love. I did my custodial duties for a few hours in the studio and the building, sweeping, mopping, and emptying the garbage. My boss was nice because he'd pay me for a whole eight hours. Cleaning the dance studio, I took my time because, after her classes, Debbie, the dance instructor, and I would talk, having pleasant conversations. She recently graduated from Farrington and was studying dance at U.H. Manoa. We'd only have little pockets of time to talk. I could not help but be amazed at how sweet and intelligent she was. I would often walk her to her car after her classes because the lot had no lighting and needed to be better lit. I must note that to my boss, who owns the building. One night, I was done earlier than expected. It would be nice to get home, get dinner together, and sit down to catch a few shows on tv. After closing up the storage closet, I was on my way out. I'd meant to pass by the studio and wave goodbye to Debbie, but she was in the middle of a class. A few minutes later, I was sitting at the bus stop going through some e-mails on my phone when I heard a car horn. I looked up to see Debbie in her car waving at me."Where're you going? C'mon! I'll take you!"
...to be continued
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