He whispered to the person next to him. A slip of paper passed between two hands, unobtrusively, inconspicuously. Like a ripple of a pebble in a pond, it finally reached her.
'Meet me outside of school. And bring a piece of paper."
She looked over to him, shyly smiling back. He returned the grin and spoke. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. But he understood her, read her message in the movements of her lips. He always knew what she was saying. He always understood her; he always had, ever since they were children. Even though she was mute.
