"Do I know you?" She asked.
I shook my head. "Not yet. You still have three years, eight months, fifteen days and one hour to go."
Her eyebrows drawn in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I want you to live your life before that happens."
"What's going to happen?"
"You'll meet me." I said. "And that's when your life will take a hundred eighty degree turn."
There was a familiar look on her face that became a part of our miserable relationship.
"That." I pointed at her.
"That's exactly the same expression you wear everytime I make a mistake and then you'll sigh and say, How I wish I never met you."
YOU ARE READING
Archer
PoetryCollection of proses. [Prose] - A verbal or written language that follows the natural flow of speech. It is the most common form of writing, used in both fiction and non-fiction.
