"You weren't joking." A voice from behind her sounded. She turned around, in the middle of the semi crowded hallway, catching the familiar eyes of a stranger that so suddenly decided to speak to her after years of just passing by and not talking in any classes, let alone acknowledging each other.
She raised an eyebrow at him, her hands clutching dozens of books she had to carry all around. Since her locker got sabotaged this morning, she had no other choice. Her thick rimmed glasses hung dangerously on her shirt pocket, threatening to fall any given moment.
"In psychology, when our teacher asked you what you wanted more than anything in the world. You said you'd want to sleep forever. I didn't know you were being serious," he said, his arms crossed over his chest. He was a head taller than her, so she had to look up to meet his eyes, though she didn't hold his gaze for long.
"I don't see that as any of your business," she inquired, turning to leave.
"Don't do that," he said, grabbing her arm and turning her around. Her eyes wandered to his hand on her arm, and as they did, he let go instantly. But before he did, she noticed a scar stretching in the inner part of his hand, from his elbow to his thumb knuckle. It must have been a nasty accident, but then again, she knew how it was to have such a scar first hand.
"Don't walk away," he said a little more quietly, his eyes begging her for just one moment. She signaled him to talk, readjusting her books in her hands. Noticing her struggle, he took half the books, though she silently protested he didn't need to.
"In the hospital a while," he said. "I was volunteering. A girl was rushed in, and I thought she looked familiar though it all passed in a blur, so I wasn't sure. I went to see later who it was and I saw you." Her breathing was ragged, and she grabbed her books from his hands, turning around and walking away as fast as she could.
In the process, her glasses dropped to the ground. Turning around, she couldn't see them anywhere; but they weren't worth another encounter with him.
So she just left.
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unknown number: are you really so brave, that only a knife would be all it takes to leave everything behind?
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YOU ARE READING
Pulse
Storie d'amore[ Trough words, letters, messages and phone calls. Trough songs, poems and pictures. Trough black and blue, coma and worse; our pulse never stopped synchronizing. ] #68 in Short Story on February 13th 2015
