He wanted to tell her that he knew her favorite book, and her coffee order, and the way that she always tapped her fingers on her thigh when she was lost in thought.
He wanted to tell her how he prided himself on memorizing the freckles on her skin and how they were like miniature stars that formed hundreds of constellations only she would ever have.
He wanted to tell her that he would be there for her, on her good days, on her bad days, on her days that nothing made sense.
He wanted to hear her laugh and know he was the person that caused it.
He wanted to tell her that she could call him in the middle of the night, in tears, and he would completely understand.
He wanted to tell her that she was his entire world.
Instead, he just smiled at her in the hallways, never knowing that she wanted the same.
YOU ARE READING
The Story I'll Never Write
Cerita PendekAll the random pieces of a story that will never be written.
