Derrick is a writer.
And my gosh doesn't he write beautifully.
Me? I can't write for the life of me.
But I tried with everything I had in me, and wrote something that actually wasn't half bad.
"Hey Derrick, So you know how I can't write?"
I force out a chuckle.
"Well I wrote something for you, I left it on your front porch.
I'm sorry..."
I drop the blue notebook on his front porch and wait quietly.
I swear I saw a curtain move, but not enough to show the person behind it.
I reluctantly head back to the car.
He'll read it.
I know he will.
YOU ARE READING
Waiting For A Call Back
Historia Corta"I'm sorry." Tears threaten to spill out of my eyes. Why won't he believe me? "Please call me back. Please..."