June 15, 2015.
Dear diary,
He was back.
I dropped my bag on the bench and stormed over to his spot on the ground in company with the lake.
I was beyond mad.
"Where were you?" I asked, anger seeping into my every word. He ignored me, his hand moving faster as he wrote on the thin pages of his book.
I felt my throat tighten and I wanted to cry in frustration. "Here's your stupid pen." I said before throwing it, making it bounce off his book and roll beside him.
By the time I sat on the bench and angrily pulled my diary from my bag he was gone.
