The middle school years in our village were not merely a stage of study, but a long summer of the soul—a time when everything seemed possible, yet nothing was yet defined. The school was the center of my universe: a building with walls peeling from the passage of time, yet vibrating with an energy that made you believe you owned the world. I can still perfectly recall the sound of my footsteps echoing through the narrow corridors, the laughter bouncing off the high ceilings, and the dust motes dancing in the shafts of sunlight that pierced through the tall windows.
I was three years older than them—a gap that, at that age, made me feel as if I belonged to another era. I, Andrei, was already on the verge of departure, my mind set on Chișinău and the freedom awaiting me, while they—Ana and Natalia—were still caught in the lingering charm of late childhood.
My heart back then was an ill-tuned instrument. I allowed myself to be led by appearances, by that "dictatorship of the eyes" which forced me to chase only outward contours. Ana was my ideal projection. She was Natalia's classmate, a girl whose beauty would steal my breath away. We had a ritual of our own, one that fed my illusion daily: the moment the sharp bell rang to signal the start of class, as the hallways emptied in a heartbeat, I would linger in the doorway of my classroom. She would stay in hers. We would lock eyes, long seconds stretching into minutes, in a silence heavy with adolescent meaning. Back then, I was convinced Ana was the most beautiful girl in the world, that no one could compare to her, and that those distant glances were the prelude to a grand victory.
But more often than not, within that perfect frame, she would appear. Natalia.
She was always there, a discreet presence beside Ana, emerging in the doorway of their class like a natural extension. Natalia wasn't a secondary character; she was Ana's loyal shadow. I saw her every day, thousands of seconds slipping away in her presence, but to me, she was simply "the classmate." Background noise. She wore her hair and clothes with a simplicity that demanded nothing, while I was busy analyzing Ana's radiance. I was fortunate that the path to my house passed directly in front of Ana's, so I often walked her home. I walked proudly by her side, talking of trivial things, unaware that the true essence of my life was walking perhaps a few paces behind us, or watching us from a window.
Today, from my solitary room abroad, I revisit those scenes with a clarity that aches. I remember the moments when all three of us were together. I would talk to Ana, trying to appear mature, while Natalia stood slightly behind. I could feel her watching me. Sometimes, when I turned my head, I would catch her gaze—there was a peculiar glint in her eyes, a spark of intelligence and longing that seemed to see right through me. She looked at me with a faint, sarcastic smile—an expression I interpreted then as a joke, but which I now know was a silent cry. That smile told me: "Andrei, you are looking for gold in the mud. I am here, I see you for who you truly are—why don't you see me too?"
But I had no eyes for the "aura" of others. I was a young man who fed on forms, not essences. Natalia hid her inner universe—that abyss of kindness I am desperate for today—behind her loyalty to Ana. She would never have taken a step that might hurt her friend. She was content to remain there in the shadows, smiling ironically at my clumsiness and loving me in silence, waiting for time to clear my vision.
The summer before leaving for Chișinău was harsh and filled with labor. I worked hard at home, wanting to leave things orderly and easy for my mother before my great departure. During those days of raw toil under the scorching sun, without seeing Natalia, I began to "feel" her. Ana's face had already begun to fade, becoming a hollow memory, but the glint in Natalia's eyes returned uninvited to my mind. I began to wonder, in the breaks from scything or hauling: "What was in Natalia's mind when she looked at me like that? Why does her face remain, while Ana's disappears?"
I was like a blind man beginning to glimpse the first rays of light. I didn't know that her subtle aura was preparing to flood me completely. My ignorance had been a necessary veil, so that when it finally fell, the shock of her beauty would be absolute. September was approaching. The day was drawing near when I would understand that everything I had sought elsewhere was, in fact, the person who had stood silently beside me, smiling with knowing eyes in the school hallways.