July 2, 2015.
Dear diary,
I was grounded but that didn't mean I couldn't sneak out to the park.
When I told the boy with green eyes what I had done to get there: crawling through the window and being chased by my neighbors dog, he laughed.
It was heart warming. I was swallowed up by this warm, blanketed feeling, such a thing thought of as absurd. The pit of my stomach was awoken and fluttered with butterflies.
He thanked me when I admitted I had almost read his book but thankfully had enough self control to keep from doing so.
That night he showed me one of his old drawings, back from the end of May.
It was of me.
His name is Elliott.
