Dear Jonah,
When we were at that gallery I must admit I didn't look at one painting. I was too busy looking at you. That proud look on your face when you showed me your painting. When you watched other people being mesmerized by it too. All I could look at was you. I don't remember the people I met that night. Or the other paintings I was looking at, because I wasn't seeing them. I was seeing you being happy. And it made me happy too.
Forever yours, Nyah.
P.S. Treehouse.
YOU ARE READING
Find Me Under The Willow Tree
RandomAfter I went away, did you search for my face in the crowd? Have you wished I was there with you? Did you go to my room and just sat there numb? Have you missed me at all? Have you ever loved me like I loved you? A STORY WRITTEN THROUGH LETTERS.
