Mum,
Coincidence or fate?
I've been asking myself this for around half an hour now.
On the bench, where he has sat for the past few days as I walk to walk, is a journal. A leather one. The exact one he holds 24/7.
It's torn and scratched. A few stars are drawn on the top of it with a quote in the middle.
I will not read it. That would be nosy and rude.
But I always have been very inquisitive, haven't it mum?
I open one page.
It's blank with nothing but one word.
Harry.
his name.
Thinking of it now. It suits him well.
Louis xx
