1:28pm
I wonder where Mark went this morning. He hasn't been back since.
I lay on my bed staring at the boring ceiling as the clock ticks in my room.
A tiny gnat flies in the air. It twirls, twists, and dances in the air. Its little booty sways back and forth, dodging the dust particles that are quite visible in the afternoon sun.
Where's Mark?
A groan leaves me as I sit up.
Seriously. Where is he?
I'm kind of worried.
Coincidentally, the front door clicks open. Shoes are thrown on the ground.
Light footsteps patter against the wood floor until they reach the hallway. The footsteps disappear but a fluff of blond hair pops out from behind the door frame.
"Jackson." Mark smiles brightly.
"Mark." I smile back. Not as brightly but it's a darn good smile.
Mark giggles and skips into my room with his hands behind his back.
"Happy birthday!" He thrusts a box into my face.
A well-designed white frosted cake sits in the box. My name is written in a funky font and the number twenty-two is center and bold. The words 'happy birthday" is wrapped around the sides of the cake in red frosting.
My first birthday cake.
Mark gets the candles and lights them right there in my room.
"Make a wish." Mark looks at me excitedly.
A wish.
I stare at the two lit blue candles. Closing my eyes and bringing my clapsed hands to my chin, I cast my wish.
I wish for Mark to be with me forever.
"Yay!" Mark cheers after I blow out the candles.
"What'd you wish for?" Mark teases.
"It's a secret." I wink.
Mark's cheeks start to turn pink.
"Did Jackson Wang just wink at me? Oh my God!" Mark pretends to pass out on the floor.
I laugh at his joke. He's so funny.
We go out into the dining room to cut open the cake. It's red velvet.
Before I dig into the delicious looking cake, I turn to Mark.
"Why did you always buy cake every Saturday?" I ask a question I've been dying to ask.
Mark stops moving his fork to his mouth.
"Well..." Mark rests his fork back onto his plate.
"At the hospital, there was this really old lady who I became friends with."
I drop my fork aswell to listen to Mark's story. Now that I think about it, I don't necessarily know too much about Mark.
"She always told me stories about how she used to love baking and eating sweets. Then, I realized that there was a cafè that sold cakes. So, I bought her a slice of cake."
"Red velvet?" I raise a brow.
"Her favorite! She loved red velvet." Mark looks at the slice of cake on his plate with a sad expression.
