➤ Pencil Strokes.

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[...] – What broke your heart like that?, I ask, still looking down at the manga I was reading, by the book shelves, facing her back as she was scribbling on paper.

— ... Huh?, she answers, it didn't look like I caught her attention at all.

— Who do you think about, when listening to such depressing love songs?, I raise my head slowly, expecting her to face me this time.

But she didn't.

— No one, she sounded so unbothered. Wait.. How do you even know about the songs I listen to anyways?

I sigh deeply; liar.

— As if you didn't share them on your insta story every once in a while.

The sound of her pencil hitting the paper stopped.

— Oh. I thought no one really paid attention to that.

Well, I did, for some reason. She is pretty interesting after all.

— So.. ? What happened ?, the smooth pencil strokes cease, a second time.

A short silence followed, until she broke it with her voice again;

— I scared him off, she says, so casually, with a small, dry chuckle. That's all.

What was that supposed to mean? That was a very bitter reply.

And before I could add anything, I stopped, letting the conversation die there, after I realized that during the whole thing; she did not show her face to me, not even once.

It was just her voice I could hear, along the harsh pencil strokes on a medium sized canvas that she was planning to paint on.

I never ever thought that hearing some graphite hit a textured canvas surface could feel so uneasy and stressful.

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