Perfect until she wasn't

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Back in high school, I used to have a crush on this slim white woman I’d see around town — always thought she was perfect. The way she carried herself, the way she talked, even the way she smiled. I’d catch myself thinking, God, if she’s the one, give me a sign. I kept waiting for the “right moment” to finally talk to her. One Friday afternoon, she walked into the diner I worked at — finally, I thought. She was polite at first, ordering her coffee and bacon sandwich, but then a tiny mix-up happened with her order. Nothing major. Out of nowhere, she snapped. Started yelling across the counter, slamming her cup down. People at nearby booths turned to stare. I just stood there. The woman I’d been imagining as this sweet, effortless dream suddenly felt like a stranger. That day, I learned something you don’t really understand until it hits you — people aren’t always what they seem, and sometimes the version you’ve built in your head isn’t real at all.