day t h r e e
2:00 a.m.
snap.
the sound twigs make when they're stepped on.
i turned towards the sound.
the boy with the coloured hair was here again, taking the swing beside me once more.
"i told you we would meet sometime soon." he said, smiling with his tongue tucked behind teeth. the action made him look like a schoolboy; cute.
"you're insistent, aren't you?"
"maybe. do you come here every night?" he turned towards me.
i looked away. "yeah."
silence.
i played with my oversized sweater, wondering why i didn't like the sudden silence.
the tears came back again. endlessly, continuously and silently.
the ground was soon wet.
"you need a real friend. how about we meet here every night, since you and i both can't sleep? plus, i can learn some more of those long words you have."
he walked back into the woods.
i was left wondering why i didn't refuse his offer.
---
yeah, why didn't you refuse him? you're supposed to be a lone wolf!
YOU ARE READING
swing ➳ clifford
Short Story“swings are used by one only, but it needs the occasional person behind it to give a push.” © annette yes, lowercase intended and all that jazz. {please note that this is entirely fetus me}
