Neither of them had been outside at three am. At those times, they were huddled up in their own blankets, in their own beds. Trapped in their own minds. They were both oblivious to the rest of the breathing world while they debated in their heads if they should still join them.
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him: so what did you tell your parents to let you go out at this time of the night?
her: they're dead so I think they'll just haunt me if this isn't okay.
him: oh... I'm sorry. I didn- -
her: it's three am. you don't have to be sorry. and we don't have to lie.
him: right. no lies.
Under the dim light of the lamppost above them, he smiled at her. She had understood what three am meant. She had seen past the awkward chuckle that he failed to suppress. In his head he thought: she, was definitely something.
him: so, nice to meet you.
her: it's nice to meet you too.
YOU ARE READING
three am.
أدب المراهقينyou haven't really met me until it's three am and we're all alone.
