It was twelve a.m. What were we doing up at twelve a.m? In our pyjamas, running around like a couple of lunatics, one store to another. You'd so irritatingly woken me up at quarter-to-twelve, just so I could run a few errands with you. She needed milk and he needed butter. They'd asked you to go to that shop a few roads down from yours and buy them what they so desperately demanded. You see, it was open twenty-four hours, seven days a week and they lived miles away from it, but you didn't. You were perfect for the job. A young, athletic boy; no-one would dare to question why you were out of bed at twelve a.m.
I crawled out of the front door and followed you, whining about how tired I'd be in the morning. You just chuckled and told me to quit complaining. That was us. Two very different people. Yes, but we were happy.
As the cool breeze swept us off our feet, we made unnecessary jokes, to reassure each other that we were happy.
We had died years ago.
YOU ARE READING
Mosquito Bites
General FictionWhere two friends go on daily adventures, living life and conquering every little problem in their tiny worlds. A boy and a girl. Two souls intertwined in what lasts for just a few moments. Always alone but never on their own. Welcome to their bubb...
