Letter 8: Coffee

46 9 2
                                    

October 28, 2013

Dear Stranger,

Paul came over.

"Why are you here? I didn't call," I said, giving him a cup of coffee. "And you didn't call either."

"I was bored," Paul said, shrugging. "And I'm also too broke for coffee."

I rolled my eyes at him and slid to the chair next to him. He looked especially tired at that time and his hair was sticking up in different directions. The bags under his eyes were more prominent and his face looked gaunt. Suddenly, I was worried for my new found friend.

"Hey, have you been eating?" I asked.

Paul looked at me with surprise written all over his face. Then he shrugged.

"Like I said I'm broke. I've been living off on instant noodles and water," Paul said. He took a long sip from the coffee I have him and looked at me. "My dad's in critical condition right now and I'm doing my best in trying to pay off his bill. My relatives are helping too but we're not exactly the richest family."

"You should still eat! Set aside some money for your basic needs, Paul," I said. "You might get sick."

"I don't care. I just want my dad to be fine, okay? Look, he's... never mind." He sighed. "I really appreciate the coffee."

"You can come here any time for coffee. And I'm treating you for lunch right now," I stood up and walked towards my room.

"I still have to study," Paul protested.

"Your brain needs food. Like my parents always say, 'Your brain needs energy to function properly,'"

Paul groaned. "Not you too!"

***

I took him to a good restaurant were we ate and chatted over mundane things. I kept staring at his eyes. It looked so dead and was filled with worry. It reminded me of myself back then.

"You're staring at me,"

I woke up from my daydream and tilted my head to the right.

"You're looking at my eyes. Is there something there?" Paul asked.

"Oh. No, I was just thinking." I said honestly.

"Oh. Well, thanks for the lunch. I feel so stuffed." He smiled at me and I could see the sparkle in his eyes reappear.

"Are you going to cry?" I teased.

"Men don't cry." He said. Then he looked down. "But I wish I could."

I walked him home and I made sure that he wasn't going to do anything rash. Helping Paul made me feel better. It distracted me from my own pains as he told me about his hardships. It gave me hope.

Because, if I could fix him, maybe he could fix me too.

yours truly,
stranger

written by: Lucie Erebus

a/n: sorry if I was gone so long! I had to study for my entrance exams :/ transferring schools is such a pain to the ass -Lucie

^^^ I have settled in my new school :) I've made new friends so I'm fine :')

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