{"id":5209,"date":"2025-08-13T14:24:51","date_gmt":"2025-08-13T14:24:51","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.rutgers.edu\/writers-house-review\/?page_id=5209"},"modified":"2026-03-05T16:23:03","modified_gmt":"2026-03-05T16:23:03","slug":"limerence","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/sites.rutgers.edu\/writers-house-review\/vol-6-winter-2025-2027\/limerence\/","title":{"rendered":"Limerence"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

Jessica Scheier<\/em><\/h4>\n

 <\/p>\n

The man and the woman walk out of the building, their laughter subsiding as the smell of petrichor hits them. Moonlight reflects off the puddles forming on the sidewalk in distorted zigzags. The fog has swallowed the rooftops of the red-brick buildings surrounding them. Ornate windows carved into the walls reflect the city\u2019s lights in warped images. Beneath the silhouettes of the buildings, pedestrians are few and far between. The man and the woman pause, taking a moment to gather themselves. The man straightens his bag on his shoulders. The woman, Veronica, moves to shield her blue eyes from stray raindrops as she glances up. Her black hair, long and lustrous, reaches her waist when she tilts her head back slightly. Her soft, warm gaze returns to him, my eyes following suit.<\/span><\/p>\n

Drops of water bead on his glasses, pant legs dragging on the ground behind him, soaking through. Of course, the man is disheveled. His brown eyes are underscored by bags, with stubble across his chin, too indifferent to be shaved. His black-framed eyeglasses are at the frustrating length where he must keep pushing them back up the bridge of his nose every fifteen seconds. His dark brown hair is a mess, pointing in all directions, refusing to yield to the rain. Despite it all, his face carries an unmistakably smug expression. I roll my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAaron, you wouldn\u2019t happen to have an umbrella on you, would you?\u201d Veronica asks, with a dimpled smile playing on her lips.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNope. But if we walk fast enough, maybe we\u2019ll only half drown,\u201d Aaron teases, overcompensating for his lack of preparedness. She bumps her shoulder with his like it\u2019s an inside joke.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI forgot you love to gamble,\u201d Veronica responds, shaking her head disapprovingly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt keeps me on my toes,\u201d Aaron jokes. Without missing a beat, he shrugs off his jacket and raises it overhead, his arm naturally rounding her shoulders as he hoists his bag back up. They pick up their stride, slowly making their way toward the bus stop two blocks down. I close my eyes and imagine it\u2019s me beside her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I think it only makes you and those around you suffer\u2014like me!\u201d Veronica\u2019s teasing now, but there\u2019s some truth to it. I tighten my grip around the umbrella in my hand, waiting a few seconds before following their footsteps. She tucks a strand of wet hair behind her ear, tilting her head to look at him. The light catches on the new earrings she\u2019s wearing today\u2013big silver hoops. Her mother gifted her the pair over winter break a few months ago.<\/span><\/p>\n

I still remember the first time I saw her. I work at one of the campus libraries twice a week, like the building Veronica just left, an area designated for graduate students only. On October 9th, 2024, she walked down the carpeted hallway toward me. The tall maroon walls, lined with historical paintings, led my gaze right to her. Her gait and the sound of her footsteps were unfamiliar at the time, but now I can recognize them anywhere. The two bracelets on her left wrist clinked together as her arms swung purposefully. She held her student ID in one hand, her phone in the other. Once she reached the desk, she scanned her ID.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGood morning.\u201d She flashed me a smile in passing, one dimple marked her right cheek. Her black hair was shorter then. My eyes darted to the computer screen\u2013Veronica Adler. The class year attached indicated she was an undergraduate student. Looking into her blue eyes, reminiscent of tidepools, I knew then that she was everything. Risking my on-campus job to see her again and again, I could only smile and make her an exception. She visited me every week on Wednesdays since. Until one day, it wasn\u2019t enough.<\/span><\/p>\n

I started following her home. I wanted to make sure she got home safe. I memorized the bus routes and schedule, just in case she needed me. She liked to stop at the mall on the way and visit her friend Sarah, who works at a perfume store. She always walked out smelling like lavender and vanilla. I ended up buying those exact scented perfumes for myself to keep at my apartment. Occasionally, I found myself spraying one of my sweatshirts with her perfume and wearing it to sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n

Recently, she has become busier, studying for exams. She has been playing hard to get, even when I jumped to cover my coworkers\u2019 shifts on my off days. I switched strategies and decided to cut back on my hours, citing stress from school. I discovered Veronica was opting to study in her room at home, with her pet cat Jasper providing her some comfort. However, today, she decided to go to the library with a man who didn\u2019t seem to be from any of her classes. So I\u2019m forced to see her like this, with someone else. Aaron\u2019s the third man I\u2019ve seen her with this week, but so far he seems to be the most irritatingly close to her.<\/span><\/p>\n

I decide just now\u2014this is the day I talk to her. I will be the fourth, and the last.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThanks for walking me to the bus stop,\u201d Veronica says, looking up at Aaron.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOf course, Ver,\u201d he reassures, and I clench my fist at the sound of her nickname. The sound of rushing water pulls her gaze away from him\u2013the bus is already here. I watch as she hugs him goodbye and steps onto the bus. Aaron gives her a final wave and heads toward his car, adjusting his jacket. A rush of adrenaline surges through my veins as I walk past him without sparing a glance, picking up my pace to catch up to her. The windshield wipers on the bus whip water at my face, working overtime to clear the view of rain. My sneakers squeak on the steps of the bus, and I almost slip, but I grab a handlebar to steady myself.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The bus is pretty much empty, save for a couple in the back and the bored driver tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. I reach into the front pocket of my jeans and take out a tiny ziplock bag. My eyes lock onto Veronica, who\u2019s now right in front of me, and I tap her on the shoulder before she can sit down somewhere.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cExcuse me, miss,\u201d I say, as she brings her headphones down around her neck, looking at me quizzically. \u201cYou dropped this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh, this isn\u2019t\u2014\u201d Her face drops. My heart pounds in my ribcage as I wait for her to break into that familiar smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIs this a joke? Where did you get this? Who are you?\u201d Her voice rises defensively, her hand clenching onto one of the bus handrails. I hold it out to her carefully, my palm cradling it as if it\u2019s our child. A small, silver stud earring with a ruby stone, her birthstone, in the middle. The same earring she lost last week at the caf\u00e9 on campus, when she laughed a little too loudly and toyed with her hair, unknowingly tugging an earring loose.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI just thought you\u2019d want it back,\u201d I say. However, she doesn\u2019t move to take it. She stares down at it, then up at me. Her eyes are searching my face, perhaps for recognition, or for some reason to believe this is a coincidence. I step back off the bus; she\u2019s still staring. The doors close in front of me, and the engine groans. I can only muster a slight wave as the bus lurches forward and pulls away, leaving me behind with the earring.<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019ll find a better time to return it\u2014one when she\u2019ll smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\n

Jessica Scheier<\/strong> is from Frenchtown, NJ. She graduated from SAS in 2025, with a <\/span>major in computer science and a minor in critical intelligence studies. She is excited to explore her <\/span>creative side more in the future with writing and crocheting.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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