Danny heard footsteps from the distance, and turned his head to see the familiar face of his nameless companion.
"Why are coming here so often?" He muttered, feeling a little annoyed.
The black girl would always come to his spot every afternoon and he never quite understood why.
This was his place and he intended to keep it that way.
"It's so peaceful here, she replies, smiling a little, "And there's something about lying here on the tracks, playing with Death but knowing that you have control. It's a little morbid, but its fun."
Danny just stares up at the girl, unable to speak. She gets it. She gets me.
He smiles a little and turns around from the girl, facing the sky ahead of him.
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Some Things are Nothing (BWWM/ Interracial)
Short StorySomething (pronoun): a person or thing that is important or worth noticing Nothing (pronoun): someone or something that has no interest, value, or importance ...