My love letter, I placed behind every other letter, bill, and all that jazz sent through snail mail. Most of it was shit.As I stepped through the doo... of my house, in which I lived alone, that aroma hit me like a wall. It enveloped and teased me, pulled and played with my senses. That damned cologne...and I was quite sure the love letter hidden behind the crapload of junk mail -- its scent wasn't nearly so damn strong.A blank, pale red envelope lay on the blackwood table. A single, elegant. ”I went back to my seat.“Just curious, Miss Amanda,” Mister Benson said. “Next week’s chapter covers problems with two vehicles meeting. Are you familiar?”“Yessir. I can solve those in several different ways.”“Thank you.”“Yessir.” And I turned my book back over.Exiting the classroom after the bell rang, I usually wait until the rush for the door subsides.“Why are you in my class? Miss Amanda?” he asked.I smiled. “I’m an eighth grade student. This is eighth grade math.”“You find it. More

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