XII

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episode eight.
ending.

i suppose i don't want to leave, even though i didn't want to come in the first place.

packing my things away whilst i listen to music with my headphones.

a calming aroma in the air.

my cat george asleep on the end of my bed.

the three of us; enid, wednesday and i, meeting back and forth as we organise our stuff into boxes.

humming along to the melody of the song.
i decide to take a break, huffing on my bed.

"enid, do you want to come get some breakfast with me?" i ask the girl seeing as she's given up too.

nodding, she stands up.
"see you in a bit, wednesday."

trudging down the stairs, we enter the food hall. passing by students joining their parents.

thoughts lingering my mind- will i be getting a taxi back without my parents? or will they be there?

"what you gettin'?" enid queries, both of us picking out food from the shelves.

"hmm, not much." i handle an apple and a cereal bar.

"what about you?"

enid lifts her hand up, showing me a fruit bowl. she's so cute.

smiling, we head back up the stairs. passing by xavier, holding eye contact.

he wink's at me, "morning."
feeling his hand graze mine as i walk away.

"morning, xavier."

comfortable silence lurks me and enid meanwhile we walk back to our room.

an aching feeling when i get reminded of leaving.

"you and aj are so cute." i state, smiling at her, approaching our dorm.

she lifts her shoulders, smiling hard.
"i know." enid laughs.

making me laugh back at her.
the short-hair girl twists the door knob open.

unravelling the cereal bar wrapper, taking a bite. crunchy.

sucking on the flavour. i watch wednesday pack away her type-writer.

the amount of nights that thing kept me awake, i'm glad i won't have to hear that when i leave.

i'll miss her though.

throwing the wrapper into a bin and eating my apple.

"are you ready, lilac?" wednesday questions.

"almost." i say, taking another bite.

multitasking is my speciality. taking the last of my books of the shelf, placing them carefully into another box.

enid tapes up all of the boxes, including mine.

𝐖 𝐈 𝐓 𝐂 𝐇 𝐄 𝐒, 𝐱𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐞Where stories live. Discover now