Ansel was a character. He lived on the 16th floor of the new apartment across the street from my modest childhood home. He wore his auburn hair in pigtails, and he carried around a compact of broken eye-shadow and blush stolen from his sister's room. His eyes were the mural of his being, and his being was sparkly and covered in rainbows. When he spoke, his voice felt like bubbles popping gently against my ears. He was my first crush, and he was also the first white boy I had ever met. We never dated but we were always together.