Natalia Rossatte: A Narrative Fiction

Natalia Rossatte. One of the few people in the world who actually appreciated me for who I am. I met her when I moved to Alameda County, California when I was around five. I was in Berkeley with my dad, visiting a relative in college when I first saw her. I was the one who approached her first. My dad left me alone, sitting at a table outside of a coffee shop while he went to do some other stuff. There I sat alone, biting my already disgusting, chewed up nails when I saw Natalia and her mom going inside the coffee shop. Eager to make some new friends, I stood up and walked into the shop and saw them waiting in line. I walked up beside them and poked Natalia’s shoulder. Yeah, that was kind of weird of me. After that little awkward moment of Natalia staring at me weirdly for poking her, we started talking about the most random things ever. I’m pretty sure her mother didn’t mind a little stranger talking to her daughter. When my dad came back, Natalia and I said our last goodbyes and I left. It wasn’t until second grade that I met Natalia again.

I’m twenty-two and the last time I’ve seen her was when we were sophomores in high school. After that, I dropped out and never saw her again. My eyes widen. “Seriously? You look so different!” Now that’s completely true. Natalia was known for her exotic and short hair. Seeing her with long hair is probably the reason why I didn’t recognize her in the first place. “Yeah, I’ve been growing out my hair lately,” she says. I reach out to touch her gorgeous long brown hair. “Wow, never in a million years would I ever consider you growing out your