Running, Running, Running.
Two crazy beings running across the pavements of the small village next to the central town, just past midday on a hot July afternoon.
They were about to miss a bus, that's all. They could see the bus stop about three building widths away ahead of them, but seconds later they heard the engine of the big vehicle they were hoping to catch, as it zoomed past them. And that's when the violent arm waving started.
Those two beings were my best friend and I.
That afternoon was a lucky one, if I say so myself. Both our summers were packed with seperate activities, her working in McDonald's, and I getting ready for a trip to the UK.
Every time we met up was the same routine. We would hang out for a bit in my or her bedroom and talk, and then either sit at the piano or simultaneously strum the strings of our ukuleles.
We don't consider ourselves particularly athletic, so boy were our lungs throbbing for air once we had successfully mounted that damned bus.
Once we had finally caught our breath back, we wholeheartedly and completely aware that the rest of the passengers were staring at us, burst into laughter.
We always do.
That's why we became friends in the first place, I think. Because we cheer each other up, we give each other a sense of belonging.
She does for me, at least.
She appeared in my life at just the right time. I'm scared to look back and imagine what I would have been like if I hadn't become friends with her. I probably would've continued my old ways, and that's the scariest part.
She really is special, and I can confidently say that there are ways in which I look up to her. How she always sees the positive in people, her open-mindedness, her patience, how she's always so understanding.
She tells me I'm worthy even when the only thing I want to be doing is to be running away from myself.
YOU ARE READING
One Thing To Another (Renewed)
Phi Hư CấuI find comfort in scribbling down my thoughts.
