“Marissa,” her name rolled off his tongue, it felt every bit as right as syrup on pancakes.  “Warm, yes please.” He answered her question about the pie.<br/><br/>When she said she couldn’t talk right now and paused, James’s heart sank like the Titanic.  The pause lasted forever it seemed to him, someone throw this boy a life preserver.  He checked out the window to make sure his bus hadn’t arrived, but only a few seconds had really transpired.  When she finally spoke again and agreed to talk after she got off work, the relief James felt at not being rejected was enough to encourage his appetite.  Apple pie was sounding better by the second.<br/><br/>“Okay” he managed to say, near speechless, giving Marissa his best smile, “in an hour, you promise?” he asked for reassurance, those blue eyes of his searching for sincerity.<br/><br/>Over the course of the next hour, he checked his watch a hundred times if not more.  The jukebox played on, the same five or six songs over and over.  Elvis, Simon and Garfunkel, The Four Tops and The Beatles would forever commemorate the afternoon when James met Marissa.  Knowing that she was the last friendly face he would see before going to bootcamp, he felt a pang of regret for not having a girlfriend.  For still being a virgin, and not living life to it’s fullest every chance he got.  Now that it was time for him to leave his home and face death every day on the other side of the world, everything seemed more precious to him.  The apple pie was the best he ever had, the music was the best he ever heard, and Marissa was the prettiest girl he had ever seen.  He tried not to stare, but sometimes he couldn’t help it.  He watched her work, oh how beautiful she was to him.  And all she did was agree to talk to him.  To fill in those last few hours of freedom before going off to war.<br/>