Dearest,
You came in late today. You had a pale face, ruffled hair and hands with an unfamilliar coldness in it. You must've notice my frown because you smiled and reached for my hips. Your other hand settled on the small back of my head. And I don't know if its because my head is spinning in your familliar scent or your hands were really shaking when you brushed my hair.
You were murmuring something... But I was so distracted by you.
You were never late...
Your hair was never ruffled.
And your hands were always warm... Like the sun in a cold weather...
'I pathetically like you, Ondrea.'
I snapped my head up to look into your eyes...I was asking myself if I heard it right or was it just a dream or---
'I like you... I like you so much...'
And everything stopped. And it's just you and me...
Everything else just disappeared.
