Dear Estella,
Why are you ignoring me?
You didn't even tell me you were going out with David. I overheard someone in school, and then I saw you and him together at a lunch table.
Our lunch table.
The very last one in the right row, next to the window. We'd selected it the first time because I loved seeing the birds on the trees, hearing them chirp with their mellifluous voices, and since that day onwards, we'd always sit there.
You were holding a slice of pizza against his lips, giggling and telling him to open his mouth. He took a big bite and then you guys laughed, and you wiped the cheese that had smeared on his lips.
It was so painful to watch.
I went and cried in the bathroom for an hour.
Why are you doing this to me?
Love,
Azura
YOU ARE READING
Dear Estella
Short StoryBecause sometimes, you can't tell her by your tongue, so you tell her by your hand.
