i didn't show up on the campus for two days. it scared me to face him. i had read the perks of being a wallflower many times before but his copy comprised of so many notes and underlined sentences that I had to read it 2 more times.
it was like looking inside his brain. i was getting addicted to him. he had become my favorite story.
it bothered me how a person could have such an effect on me without us even spending any time together at all.
i wondered if I should give him something about me too like he gave me the book. but it was none of his business. for now.
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my copy of the perks of being a wallflower is filled with underlines and highlights. i feel like sharing a book that you've defiled to a major extent with scribbles and sticky notes with someone you love and trust is a high form of intimacy. back in college, it felt like a good idea to share things like that with the person i liked. unfortunately, that opportunity never presented itself and good thing it didn't. there are few books I own that are royally spoiled with stickies and bookmarks and scribbles and doodles and i don't think i trust someone enough to share it with. love, affection, it felt easier in the naivety of the days with less responsibilities. now, something like sharing a tiny little piece of me with anyone i don't know is a big deal for me.
i think i gave quite a big speech here. i tend to ramble a lot these days.
anyway. thanks for reading if anybody is reading at all.
please let me know if you're reading at all by giving the story a like.
it'll make me smile. xxxx
YOU ARE READING
Cigarettes | l.t.
Short StoryHe smoked when he was sad. And that was nearly always. I hated it. But it was none of my business.
