Your friend laughed at you when she saw you with a silly smile on your face, watching Henry, who with long strides crossed the corridor full of laughing teenagers.

"He's a weirdo, really." Emma would roll her eyes, and then you'd slap her on the back of the head.

You even signed up for the Latin classes that Henry took. That's why you sat up all night to catch up on everything you missed in class. This was accompanied by countless cups of coffee from the school vending machine.

Henry twitched every time a friendly Latin professor patted him on the shoulder while explaining a new topic. It made you smile sheepishly, because at that moment Henry looked like an annoyed black cat.

Sometimes you'd read an essay in class, and some of the lines you wrote in a fit of tenderness were dedicated only to Henry.

The last thing was that you started smoking. You knew that Henry always smokes around the corner of the school, and once you saw a pack of Lucky Strikes fall out of his coat pocket. Each time, you checked the time on your Casio with the cherry dial and went to smoke too. It was a kind of ritual. The two of you stood by a brick wall covered with ivy, smoking in silence and looking up at the sky.

One day, Henry broke the silence during another smoke break.

"Why don't you smoke capsule cigarettes like all the girls? Mint ones, cherry ones..." Henry said thoughtfully, taking a drag, and then he looked at you.