The oh-so-common love story.

The school belle. The prom queen. Guys queue to get her number. The girl everyone wants to know, wants to be.
But despite all this fame and glamour, she thought of no one, except the one that she once loved.
One, that she most admired.
One, whom took her breath away.
One, who loved her probably more than anyone would, for he loves her for her.

But he was poor. She ain't.

They were together on one fine Sunday, at the beach, enjoying the breeze. Enjoying the company. Everything that didn't seem to be pleasing, didn't make any difference. It was probably, paradise.

Then, he suddenly held her tight, and said, "If this is going to be the last time I'm going to see you, what would you say to me?"

She was taken aback. The ever happy boy, the smile that the boy has never seem to lack... revealed a drop of tear. A hot drop of tear that landed on her tanned shoulder.

She said, "Come on, stop joking. You're scaring me."

He held her tighter for a while, then released his grip. He smiled, and joked, "Haha, you got punk'd!" Even so, there were still the tear trails.