Robert slid down lower in the seat of his desk in the back of the classroom and pulled the green hood of his sweatshirt even further over his dark eyes. His mother once described his eyes as intuitive.

"Intuitive eyes," she had said taking off her work apron and letting down her thick brown hair, "the eyes of a wise old man who has traveled the world. Certainly not the eyes of a seventeen year old boy who can't remember to wash the dishes."

Robert glanced up at the chalkboard in the front of the classroom. He squinted through his hair and watched as Mrs. Lawrence wrote the question, "What is love?" on the dusty black chalkboard in her meticulous cursive. Her cursive reminded James of a shirt that had been too stiffly starched. There were no rounded edges or sweet curves, only sharp edges that were neat to a fault. Mrs. Lawrence spun around to face the class. She sighed, pushed her wire rim glasses further up her nose, put a hand on her hip and asked if anyone, bless her heart, had an answer. No one did. The classroom was quite. It wasn't a deathly quiet for that implies that the silence was due to fear. No it was a languid quite: a thick heavy silence that slowly slithered up the aisles of the classroom seeking its victims.

"Julia dear," Mrs. Lawrence finally broke the silence's hunt to call on a girl in the front row, "why don't you take a shot at the question?"

Robert watched from his seat in the back of the classroom as Julia took  brief a respite from scribbling furiously in her notebook to look up at Mrs. Lawrence. Undaunted even as Mrs. Lawrence loomed over her desk, Julia ran a thin hand through her shockingly red hair.

"The way I see it," Julia began, "No one can define love. Love exists in a fourth dimension. A dimension where it can't be pinned down by teachers or students or even by the most hopeless of romantics. Love is greater than all of us and that is why I simply cannot answer your question."

As soon as she was done speaking, Julia began writing in her notebook again. She didn't wait for Mrs. Lawrence's approval because she didn't need it and she knew Mrs. Lawrence wouldn't give it.

As expected, Mrs. Lawrence refused to acknowledge Julia's answer. Unsatisfied, she left her post at the front of the classroom and began walking among the desks, eyeing her students with a sharp stare. She finally settled on the perfect prey, the football team's new running back, Ty. She hit her hand on his desk to wake him up from his peaceful slumber. In a sudden, spastic movement, Ty jerked his head up to look at Mrs. Lawrence.

"Ty," Mrs. L spoke in a sickly sweet although slightly exhausted voice, "what is love?"

Ty looked over at his equally dazed buddy for support but he was met only with a helpless shrug. On his own, Ty looked back up at Mrs. L. He sat for a moment and struggled to fight off the silence that had wrapped itself around his ankles in an attempt to drag him down. Ty finally spoke in a slurred, sleepy voice, emerging victorious from the fight.

"I guess love is the person who pats you on the back after the game even when you lose. They don't have to but they do it anyway because they love you and they care."

Ty, obviously satisfied with his answer, gave a goofy grin and then put his head back down on the cool welcoming surface of his desk. Within seconds, he was snoring once again.

Mrs. Lawrence resumed her hunt. Her brown high heels pierced the ground with every step she took on classroom's cold tile.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Snap.

Robert popped his gum. With that single fateful pop, he had attracted the unforgiving eyes of Mrs. Lawrence.
"Why Robert, we haven't heard from you in quite awhile. Enlighten me, what is love?"

Robert sat up uncomfortably in his desk and thought about the question. Robert loved his mother. His mother loved his father and his father loved whiskey. Love was simple.

"I don't know," Robert said looking up to meet Mrs. Lawrence's stare.

"You know. Everybody knows what love is."

"I don't know."

"Well then Robert, please sit in the hallway until you know what love is."

Without another word, Robert got from his seat. He walked out the door of the classroom but he didn't sit down.
As soon as Robert was out of the door, as soon as he was free from the confinement of that room, he started to run. Robert sprinted through a maze of hallways until he reached the worn wooden door that served as an entrance to the school but never as an exit. Robert put his hand on that wooden door and paused to catch his breath before pushing it open in a burst of strength. When he stepped outside and into the world, Robert was met with blinding sunlight that brought him back to life.

Robert ran to the middle of the road in front of the old brick building. He stood there on the two yellow lines of and spun around with his arms outstretched towards the clear blue sky. He spun faster and faster until he couldn't stop. He spun like a top, a wild top out of control. He couldn't be stopped until suddenly he was.

Snap.

The funeral home wasn't crowded. A few students and community members were scattered around a small room with faded yellow wallpaper sitting in metal folding chairs. Robert's mother stood at the front of the room beside Robert’s casket with tears in her pale blue eyes. The casket was closed to hide Robert's broken body.

Community members stood in a line and patiently waited to give Robert’s mother their condolences.

  "He was a lovely boy, truly lovely," said Mrs. James, the neighbor whose lawn Robert had occasionally mowed.
"Thank you," his mother responded softly as she wiped tears from her eyes.

  "I swear ma'am we'll find the goddamn drunk driver who killed your son," the local police officer was among those lined up although it was justice he offered, not condolence. "I mean it was 12 o'clock. Who does that?"

"Sir," Robert's mother put her frail hand on the arm of the officer to catch his attention, "I love him."
"I know you do ma'am and I swear we'll that driver."

The funeral director interrupted Robert's mother and the police officer to politely inform them that it was time for people to speak. Robert's mother gave a slight nod and walked up to the podium at the front of the room. She spoke for only a minute but it was beautiful. She left the room in silence.

When Robert's mother was done speaking, Mrs. Lawrence emerged from the back of the room. She walked up the aisles between the metal folding chairs and positioned herself at the front of the room, not behind the podium, but beside Robert’s coffin. Mrs. Lawrence stood beside Robert's coffin and pushed her wire rim glasses further up her nose. She stood there, closed her eyes slightly, opened her lipstick lined mouth and let the words "Robert was a wonderful student," pour out over the solemn room. In the front row, Robert's mother cried.