It had been a while since I knew him now. Since the day he killed that monstrous thing. We were sitting on my bed, talking. Then he mentions that day, when he saved me. I suddenly for no reason kiss him. As I kiss him I feel like he changes, as in his physical form. When we pull away and I look back at him, he looks the same. For some reason I still don't know his name. Which strikes me as odd. So I ask him. His response surprised me. Ĥ̵̛͕̹̗̆̄̔͗̇̇̉͝ĭ̸̧̨̺͖̦̳̹̹̊̐̽̌͠͝ŗ̶̝͔̞̟̘̬̆̾͋̊̈̑͑ͅơ̵̛̙͂̓͌͋̎̍͜͝๓̸͙̎͌ค̴̡̭̦̪̠̭̱̣͗̂̇̿̒̆̕͜͠ร̴͕͚̼̹̗̰̖̍̈̾̃͘à̷̲̭̱̈́͛̅̇̄̽̿͊͝ ̶̧͕̫̱͈̟͕͒̌̚͝Ş̷̛̫͍̘̜̲͍͔͉̏̌̇͛̾̾̐ǫ̴̝́́ļ̸̖͕̝̲̞̏͒͑̿͋̅͝ơ̵͈̱̟̂͂̈́̔̅͌̍͐̕๓̷̱̱̝̥̋ȍ̷̰̙͇͉̽̓̿͐̇̉ภ̵̜͕͕͇͚̜̯̩͓͑͛̽́͠. That was the name of the same publisher who was sending me many offers to write and publish a book. He hugs me because I haven't responded yet. I ask him whether he actually believes that I would make a good writer. He softly says yes and kisses my forehead, as if he was trying to get it through to my brain. He then tells me that he knows the perfect place for me to go, to study.
YOU ARE READING
That One Time
Short Story"I'm sitting in my class when somebody catches my eye. As I get a good look at him, I'm left there gaping."
