He closed the door really slowly when he got home.
There were enough broken things already.
He went to his bedroom and ripped a piece of paper from one of his notebooks. And he wrote.
"Hey, I'm sorry for being rude. I just can't help it, but I hope we can hang out sometime."
He sighed, and tore it apart.
"I didn't mean to be like that, I just got anxious. It happens a lot. I'm sorry."
And, again, he broke the paper and took a new one.
"You enlighten the darkest corner of my soul and I'm fucking scared."
There it was. He looked at every word for a long time, thinking about everything. All at once.
He slipped the note on his jacket's pocket and laid in bed.
He whispered her name until he finally fell asleep.
YOU ARE READING
Sadness
Short StoryHe was broken. She was, too. She wanted to fix him. Maybe she was the only one who could.
