"Your favorite part in the book?" He asked, throwing me a sideway glance.
Leaning against the railings of his balcony, facing the city library. "And when the sun will set, I'll pray for your tears to dry on your cheeks. Because, I don't like living in a world that makes you cry." I whispered, repeating what's written in the book.
"It feels like a revival of his life dedicated for me to live with warm fuzzy.” I added
Silence ensued between us. I guess, both enjoying how the star brightened up the dark skies—making our last night, somehow, beautiful.
"Are you happy?" He asked.
"I am. Tomorrow, I'll say, I was."
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Him
"I am. Tomorrow, I'll say, I was." She answered.
"Stay. I need you more than you ever think." and then suddenly, my feet wanted to just stick around her toes, and not leave.
All I ever wanted is to get her out, and for her to start moving in her life. Presumably, I did all the words wrong in the sentences, that instead of a happy ending, we became a book with a dead author, failed to press the keys on his typewriter.
