"Don't you want some too?" asked Mac as we leaned against my kitchen counter. I gave him a big glass of orange juice and he looked content.
"No, I'm allergic." I say monotonously while staring at the ground. That was most likely the seven millionth time I had said it.
After a couple seconds I looked up because he hasn't said anything. I really regret it now, once I think about it.
He had his a lips stuck out in a ridiculous way, but his eyes were serious and his a eyebrows were furrowed. Then, in half a second, he burst out laughing and ended up falling on my dirty kitchen floor.
"How is that possible??" He said between loud chuckles.
"I just... am?" I honestly didn't know how to respond. It was odd enough I let him in my house, let alone gave him orange juice.
The whole thing was odd, I guess.
YOU ARE READING
Short Lived Life
Teen FictionLet's make this short: I'm Gerry, I'm a girl, and my life was short (metaphorically). But I never got to share my story. I never got to sit in front of a campfire, surrounded by my grandchildren, telling my story. I never got to tell my best friend...
