I run as fast as my feet will carry me, ignoring the noises around me that are penetrating my thoughts. My feet thump harshly against the ground. My breaths are heavy yet steady, and my brain knows exactly where I'm going.
My best friend Kelsie's house. Her parents also died, her mom over-dosed on drugs and her dad died at war during combat. After her mom and dad vacated this nonsense world and took a trip to heaven, I comforted Kelsie and I was her shoulder to lean on anytime it got rough. She now lives with her grandma, who is so old and worn out that she can barely even remember what year it is. I had memorized Kelsie's address a few weeks after her parents died, so I could help her through it all, considering that her brainless grandma couldn't. Kelsie has been my friend since my first day of the sixth grade, that one unbreakable friendship that I always longed for as a child. I believed that nothing could ever slice our friendship in half, until today.
Something peculiar catches my eye as I'm running. A figure, no, a person, a boy sitting on the opposite side of the street, staring deeply into my eyes with his piercing golden brown ones. Forcing my feet to stop, I pivot aroud so I'm facing him, freeze and stare back. I absorb every single detail about this boy: brown hair, he looks pretty short. He is wearing a gray sweater that is soaking wet, camo print shorts, and a pair of blue slip-on vans. I push my gaze towards his face. He wears a blank expression. He has a narrow nose and his eyelashes are particularly long for a boy's. His soft pink lips are drawn into a tight, straight line.
My legs ache, longing to move forward away from this weird kid. I somehow force myself to stand there. That's when I realize that he is holding something... A notebook? Yes, a notebook. He is scribbling on the page, madly stroking the pencil across the page. I watch, infactuated with his elegant hands.
After a minute or so, he rips out the page and folds it into a paper airplane. He thrusts it toward me and I struggle to catch it as it floats around in the wind. It finally soars right into my hands.
I unfold it to find a drawing of myself, standing there skinny jeans and a sweater, staring right back at me.
I fold it up and slide it into my pocket. The drawing resembles me perfectly. Amazed by his talent, I tilt my head up and open my mouth to compliment him on his perfect sketch.
When I look up, the boy is gone.
