"Just admit it, Agatha." he said as he trapped me against the wall. He leaned in closer to me and brushed his lips on mine. "You love our dirty little secret."

A writer. A weird stranger. A lot of little conversations. An online understanding. Every night. 23:11.

A (not-so) hopeless romantic writer. A weird (not-so-much of a) stranger. A lot of (denying) feelings in between. A (continuation of the online) connection that ends on 11 / 23.