There was something about the atmosphere that was so, so off. At my core I knew it wasn't the actual day, it was just my feelings getting the better of me and tricking myself into thinking something was wrong, thinking something bad would happen. Really, the only bad thing that would happen was that I might get my heart cracked open. I took a moment to reflect on that last thought as I walked towards the bus stop 'the only bad thing that would happen was that i might get my heart cracked open'. What a selfish thing. Someone, somewhere, had just died, and their family and loved ones were now left to pick up the pieces, someone was probably being raped or tortured, someone else was slowly dying of a cancer or starvation. Of course me getting my heartbroken wasn't the only bad thing that would happen. What a selfish thing to think.
The sky was grey, the air moist, and it would rain later, possibly storm. The idea of murky weather didn't do much to raise my thoughts, and nor did seeing the bus stop she I heading towards. The blonde set of curls that stuck out above the rest of the small crowd both surprised me and caused anxiety fuelled butterflies to dance around my stomach. All I could think was his name over and over "Peter, Peter, Peter..." and wonder what his reaction to seeing me would be.
This wasn't even his bus stop, he only came here to meet here every morning so we could go to school together. This meant one of 3 things- 1) he was breaking up with me 2) he was making up with me 3) his bus stop was closed. I silently prayed it was the second option.
I took her spot at the bus stopped and followed his movements with my eyes until I found herself looking him in the eye. We stayed like that for a second before he started moving towards me, smiling at one of his younger friends as he did so. But his face stayed neutral when he looked back to me.
Without an warning he wrapped his arm around my waist and I rested my head on his shoulder, and we were silent. We didn't feel the need to speak, because everything felt okay again.
YOU ARE READING
Dreams.
Short StoryThis is just a weird little selection of stories i've written based off things i've dreamed.