⌠ 1 ⌡
I can see the tree from the classroom window.
It sways gently.
I can almost picture
a pink blob below it.
The room's quiet,
except for the scribble of pencils
and pages flipping.
Sometimes
a chair scrapes the floor.
The teacher's voice drones on.
Takeshi's in his seat
near the door.
Won't look at me.
I'm almost glad he doesn't.
Chalk scrapes away.
The teacher continues.
Something about triangles.
Two angles.
One answer.
I want to laugh.
... it's not fair.
⌠ 2 ⌡
I stall after class.
It's a familiar path.
Not a thing out of place.
The same path,
the door,
the library.
The stillness of books.
They stayed the same
when nothing else did.
My hiding spot.
Loneliness felt safe.
Each faded cover,
each turned page,
each old crease.
A different universe.
The words were my friends,
then.
Since
when did I expect
this place to have
someone's presence?
Since when did I miss
their quiet laughter?
Our stupid conversations.
Spanning everything
and nothing.
Our table.
My fingers brush over wood.
Cool to the touch.
Something tugs at my lips.
Even now.
She isn't here.
They aren't either.
YOU ARE READING
wingman | Cell Phone Novel
RomanceSakai Keichi has always been the wingman, the shadow helping his best friend chase girls in an empty cycle of double dates and practiced smiles. He lets himself fade into the background. Until he meets a girl who smells of rain, and for the first t...
