Letters to Rose,

three

Dear Rose,

I think I'm getting the hang of this. It's less awkward now.

Today, you accompanied me at the library, insisting that "It's bad luck to study alone."

Whatever you meant by that, clearly made no sense, but I let you tag along anyway. I didn't mind after all. You were always the best company.

You chose the seats on the second floor, next to the cowering multicolored stained-glass windows that overlooked the front of the aged library.

Along with our seats, you had to have chosen the library that was on the other side of town, rather than the closer, newer option since you always had a fascination with vintage structures.

I didn't know why you found interest in them. It smelt of ripened mildew and years of neglection.

Cobwebs tickled our ankles as we simultaneously opened up our textbooks, creating a puff of dust that blew up from underneath. Yours, of course, was two times thicker than mine. You had a future in your sight, and the bigger the book, the closer you got to achieving it.

I watched carefully, as you took out a small, wooden case out of your name branded backpack and placed it gently on the table. Your minimal manicure, lifted the top slowly as your delicate eyebrows narrowed towards the center of your forehead, while you gave the slightest nibble to your bottom lip.

It was a nervous habit of yours—you've seemed nervous recently.

The case you had taken out, held a pair of thin frames. All at once, your seemingly innocent, doll-like complexion transformed into that of a student of raw intellectual, the glasses highlighting the defined structures of your porcelain face while complementing the ink spill you had as hair.

But let's be honest, no matter how primed and pressed you were, you were still as blind as a bat.

only teasing (but not really) -
mei

❁❁❁