" I'm an idiot. I don't know how I didn't tell you to stop. Or even tell myself. I was around you for so long that I thought you were what I wanted. You're not. I know that now...but that doesn't stop me from missing you. I miss the way you'd glare at me whenever I'd take huge sips from your coffee. I miss the way you'd hold my hand gently whenever we argued just so I wouldn't walk out on you as I always do. I miss the way you'd tell me you didn't care for me but then always discreetly made sure that I had ate, or slept. "
Stop talking. Please, I don't...I can't hear anymore.
Please!
YOU ARE READING
Kairos
Historia CortaK A I R O S ( n. ) the perfect, delicate, crucial moment; the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words, or movement; also, weather. ~ " Love is never late. She knows what she's doing ", She spoke...
