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"You kiss by the book,"

she told him, and years passed before "book" became "internet" and he was able to surf the net for some clue as to what Sally Proffit meant when she said that. Knowing Romeo had said it to Juliet was no help; how did it apply to that tremulous first kiss at age fifteen when he lit up a cigarette under the bleachers at a football game for Sally Proffit, the prettiest girl in all of Winston High?

She drew in a puff of smoke, tipped her head back, eyes closing dreamily--as if he'd struck more than a match, lit more than a Camel--then with her eyes at half-mast and her face tilting up, she let out a magical puff and brought her lips within tingling distance of his. Gently, gently, he dared to let his lips touch hers.

She offered him a taste of her Camel, but he preferred the smoky flavor to come straight from her lips.

First kiss, and first inhale. He tried not to cough. Tears spurted from his eyes and gagging noises issued from his throat.

"You kiss by the book," she said, laughing. "And you smoke by the book too." She handed him the Camel and darted off.

Come Monday,

she wouldn't even look at him.

Homecoming was drawing near. He paced from the hayloft to the cattle feeders, rehearsing his words. Picturing James Dean, trying to effect that same cool, casual air. That confidence.

Friday, he tried his luck.

"Sally." He leaned in close during the noise and commotion of books going in and out of lockers between class. "Homecoming. I haven't asked anyone yet. How about you?"

She looked right through him, then turned and walked away.

All these years later,

he still farmed with his dad. On cold September nights when the air was just so, he'd strike a match and stare at the flame until it flickered out. He never did take up smoking.

Sally Proffit married the quarterback and had two kids with him. One was born deaf. Must have been the cigarettes, people said.

"Daddy. Daddy."

A little girl in pink Osh Kosh overalls and a green sweatshirt with a pointed hood that made her look like a fairy came running up to him. Her cheeks were flushed with the nippy air, her blonde curls framed her face, her big blue eyes stared up at him. Smiling, she clutched his shirt sleeve and walked with him to feed the cattle.

"I thought you were doing homework," he said. "Back in my day, kindergarteners would have staged a riot before putting up with such a thing."

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"Mommy says I'm done enough for now."

He smiled. Janet was a free spirit, not a stickler for busy-work, least of all for kindergartners. Childhood was short enough as it is, she said.

"I got tickets to the Homecoming game Friday," he said. "I wonder if a pretty girl like you would ever go with me."

She squealed. "Daddy! You have to take me."

"Well, only if Mommy and Grandpa come too."

He pictured the bleachers, the concession stands with hot cocoa and popcorn, the teenagers standing around with their phones not making eye contact with anyone, the parents watching every move their sons made on the field.

Not for the first time, he rejoiced that Sally Proffit had never spoken to again after that first tentative kiss.

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Day 469: 5 Minute Freewrite: Friday - Prompt: by the book

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