Am Anfang des Urlaubs waren wir 5 Freunde. Am Ende blieb einer zurück...

Dear Library Girl, I almost asked you what was wrong the first time I saw you crying. Then I saw the book you were reading, and realized that you were crying because of it. And I was interested, because I'd never read anything that moved me that much. I checked out the book you were reading, and guess what? I cried - just a little - too. That's how it started. Every time I go to the library, you're almost always there, usually with a completely new book. Sometimes you smile, or laugh out loud, or cry again, and when you do, I check out the book you're reading. That was it, really, until I realized how gorgeous you are. You're not pretty in the normal kind of way, but god, when you smile, it lights up your face in the best way. I wish you'd notice me, sitting a few tables away from you, reading the book you were reading a few days ago. I wish you'd smile at me. I don't have the guts to talk to you. I'm afraid you won't be anything at all like I imagine. One of these days, I'll work up the courage and I'll ask you about what you're reading. And maybe you'll smile that gorgeous smile and tell me all about it, and then we'll talk about all the books we've read. But until then, thank you for the book recommendations. I love them. Love, Tyler *The body of this letter is not my original work, but rather a prompt for the story you are (hopefully) about to read. Enjoy! French translation on @ClesteVrld's profile!

(Seeehr alt - 2014) Einfach eine Kurzgeschichte über eine fast perfekte Nacht in seinen Armen, bevor alles wieder normal wird und das Leben wieder seinen Lauf nimmt ♥ (KEIN nicht jugendfreies Material beinhaltet, ein wenig traurig.) © - Copyright 2013 - MelodyMelli ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

Das Leben hat einen an der Waffel. Vor allem, wenn man mit ihm schon längst abgeschlossen hat.

»Da ist er. Der Duft, den ich nicht einordnen konnte. Freiheit. Skye riecht nach Freiheit.« Jeden Tag um 21 Uhr betritt sie meinen Laden. Jeden Tag um 21 Uhr bestellt sie einen Coffee-to-go und einen Vanille-Cupcake mit Kirsche. Jeden Tag um 21 Uhr will ich sie fragen, wieso das so ist. Jeden Tag um 21 Uhr ... traue ich mich nicht. ['Warnung' an neue Leser: Manche Kommentare können Spoiler enthalten. Obwohl ich versuche, diese zu löschen oder zu verhindern. Vielleicht verzichtet ihr also darauf, Kommentare zu lesen, wenn ihr nicht aus Versehen schon das Ende wissen wollt :)]