One day, I met a boy. He had long hair, and he wore it down like an angel.

"My name is Sam," he said.

"My name is Anna," I answered, and then we smiled.

Sam was my best friend. We talked about heaven and love and coffee with just enough sugar and cream. Ours was a faerietale dreamland with perfect moments and never running out of things to say.

"Let's be hippies today," he said, and we donned our handkerchiefs and sunglasses, let down our hair, and talked of peace and love.

"Let's be bad," I said, and we scowled, decked out in black and rocking to heavy metal.

"Let's be optimistic," he said, and we walked around in yellow, on top of the world.

"Let's be individuals," he said, and we made up puzzling outfits, contemplated anarchy, and laughed. This was our favorite game.

Sometimes we sang, sometimes we ran, sometimes we talked, but mostly we laughed. We had summers of perfect and idyllic winters. We had sunshine and we had red cheeks and we danced in the rain. It was beautiful.

"Let's be in love," I said, and I bit my nails and cried, afraid he wouldn't like this game. He danced.

"I love you!" he said, and on went our faerietale dreamland, but my stomach was upset and my eyes cried without me at night and I knew that it was wrong.

"Let's break up," I said, and he cried, and I cried for his broken heart and the way he didn’t look at me anymore.

"I don't like this game," he said.

Then our faerietale dreamland disappeared, and we looked around to see where the colors went, and why our world was gray.

"I think it left with the love," I said, and I cried.

"But it was just a game," he said, laughing quietly, and I remember that there were no kisses. My heart hurt, and I cried because I didn’t realize the truth.

Once I knew a boy. Now he has forgotten our faerietale dreamland, and I watch him as his heart grows cold. He says that he is truly bad.

"Let's hate each other," he said, and I agreed. Then my stomach turned again, and I cried in the dark, and I knew it was wrong.

"Let's make up," I said, and we pretended. Then we tried to remember our faerietale dreamland, but he could not find the way, and I lost him.

"Let's say I've fallen in love with someone else," he said, and I smiled sadly because it is no longer a game, and he will never play with me again.

"Let's move on," I said.

I remember a boy. We once had a faerietale dreamland. Sometimes I still go there, looking for him, because he was lost.

"Let's be hippies today," I call, but I get no answer.

Once I knew a boy.