'Why has the world stopped?'
She looks at him and that's what he thinks.
She looks away and scribbles something down.
She scribbles at an angle that he can't see.
So he knew it was a private matter.
He questioned: What is it?
She smiled at him.
He stared at any of her features, but her eyes.
But they roamed there - to her eyes - on their own accord.
His lips twitched and he almost leaned forward.
He wanted to do something, but he knows it's too private, too serious for the both of them.
He was afraid to lose her as a friend.
If they were even called that.
Maybe acquaintance? He wasn't sure.
He wonders if she writes all of those figments of imaginations.
Or.
If they are connected to her surroundings, her life and everything that science can prove as a fact.
Maybe.
Maybe she doesn't have a reason and he's just looking in too deep.
He already had her notice him.
What more could go wrong?
What did he have to lose at this point?
And so he stared at her silently.
And so she turned the page and scribbled away again, smiling and doing what she's been doing before - before he interrupted the peace, before he became more than a shadow, before he became noticed - and that was just smiling and writing.
He watched, his posture and thoughts and eyes filled with admiration beyond this world for this girl.
This girl that noticed him.
YOU ARE READING
Made from Scratch.
Krótkie OpowiadaniaShe writes. He reads. They like each other's company. She escapes her reality through her works and he treasures their time spent together. Then everything begins and ends again. She kids you not. He kids. ~~~ Just made for fun. :) Another story fo...
