I slouched on the monochrome, plastic stool at the back of Chemistry class with my left leg crossed over my right like a crosshatch stitch. I silently beckoned the bell to go for lunch. There was only a few minutes to spare. Meanwhile, it became apparent to me that with a teacher like Mr. Owl I was destined to fail Chemistry. He'd drone on about his person life, grasping every spare minute he had. That time, he elaborated about his new hamsters. I didn't listen. In the midst of his monologue, I felt a sharp buzz in the front pocket of my crystal white shirt. I removed it hastily, holding it prudently behind the sockets nailed to the desk. Between glances I skim-read the text message.
To: Anonymous😌 From: Anonymous Friend💓
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I smiled giddily. A giggle threatened to escape my glossy lips. 'To know that you're okay'. Those kind words echoed in the back of my mind.
Despite sounding desperate, I decided to text back straight away; moments like these didn't happen very often. A short-lasting moment, where you almost forget the demons that invade the ruinous corners of your mind, and the tips of your fingers begin to tingle like the licking of flames against your skin. Almost.
Smiling, I began to type.
To: Anonymous Friend💓 From: Anonymous😌
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To: Alana James💓 From: Anonymous Friend💓
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