Dearest,
Saying that my heart somersaulted when our hands and bodies touched is an understatement. Your hands feel so warm on my cold ones. You might’ve felt how pathetically nervous I was. And my heart is against your chest, and I’m so scared you’ll feel it beating so fast it might’ve ripped me open in an instant.
But in the end of the day when I’m walking home, I touched my chest to feel my heart. Only to find out that it wasn’t there.
And then I realized, I left it, at the rehearsal room, in the middle of the dance floor, at a certain boy’s hands.
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AN: I just want to say thank you for reading this story. (If there's one.) But I really appreciate it if you're patiently reading this. Thank you, thank you. :))
