𝟶𝟶𝟸.

55 4 0
                                        

∙ ⸰ ⊱ 𝚑𝚒𝚖 ⊰ ⸰ ∙

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

∙ ⸰ ⊱ 𝚑𝚒𝚖 ⊰ ⸰ ∙

"Where?"

"Downtown, I think."

My best friend nods once, flipping one page to the next as his blue eyes scan over the lines of a book I'll never ever have the ability to understand.

It's one of those books you'd read for a month in your literature class, either wishing those chapters would be assigned slower, or quicker, depending on your feelings towards reading as a hobby.

It's one of those books, if you're like me, where you regret not following along because, in the end, you realize reading about two men and their friendship that ended in tragedy was actually something you would've enjoyed. It's one of those books that you now feel guilt towards because picking it up again after having let it collect dust from 3:15 PM to 9:07 AM every weekday for one month in your junior year of high school is what you now consider to be a blow to your pride as an upcoming senior in college.

It's one of those books you'd rather watch your best friend read because he's allowed to; because he didn't drop it right after flipping past the title page.

We're in the sunroom of my house, doing absolutely nothing productive except wasting the damn day away. She's not here, so I can't think of anything fucking better.

Armin smiles. "Why on earth did they take the Bug, then? Yours can fit way more."

I sigh, twisting the golden tag hanging from my dog's faded collar, which wraps around her neck of blonde and aged fur. Daisy—the name that's engraved into its center, the name given to her unanimously by my sentimental family. "She said she isn't gonna buy anything. Just looking."

He nods, his laugh followed by the sound of another page turning. "She thinks that, but knowing your mom..."

The moment I grin, agreeing with him, the device resting on my thigh starts to vibrate, the screen lighting up with a familiar name. I slide my thumb along the bottom, answering the call without an ounce of hesitance; reflexively.

"Who is it?" Armin asks.

My mama's name rolls flatly off my tongue, silence being towed behind.

I lift the phone to my ear, and the voice on the other end never hesitates to flow through the speaker with words so soft, they hit my cheek like pillows thrown for fun, "Hey, honey. Are you sure you don't want me to get you anything?"

The woman on the receiving end can't see the smile I'm giving her. "It's fine, Mama. You two need to spoil yourselves for once."

-  𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜/𝚠𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜  -Where stories live. Discover now