in which a boy boredly calls a random number at 11:11pm every night, not expecting to meet a sarcastic girl just a year older than him.
✎ The Rose Awards winner - short story ✎
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"It's 11:11, make a wish!"
"... tables have turned, I see."
"Yep!"
"You don't sound as nasty as you did yesterday."
"Yeah, well some creepy stalker dropped off a box of stuff at my house and I've been using it."
"Oh really?"
"Yep."
"..."
"Hey, Cal?"
"Mhm?"
"Thank you. It means a lot."
"You know it was me?"
"Cal, you're an idiot."
"No I'm not!"
"Cal, honey, you signed your name on the card."
"Oh, oops. I suppose you have valid evidence supporting your statement about me being and idiot."
"Sure do. And I didn't know that you did calligraphy?"
"Erm, yeah, I do. I'm not all that good or anything."
"Stop bluffing. The note-"
"That was the cutest sneeze I've ever heard. Like a little puppy."
"Shut up. Anyways, as I was saying, the note you sent me was gorgeous."
"Thank you, phone girl."
"What kind of stuff do you use? I've always wanted to get into calligraphy, but considering that I can barely write my own name, I don't think I'd be good at cursive."
"Well, I use fountain pens, crayola markers, brush tip markers, um..."
"FaceTime me. I wanna see."
"W-What?"
"FaceTime me. You don't have to show your face or anything."
