....Ava
- Reads 29
- Votes 2
- Parts 1
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Sun, Dec 11, 2016
The only thing left that proved that I just had a conversation with a real living girl was the post it with the number, and the cloud of cinnamon essence that lied heavily in the air.
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It was (y/n)'s senior year. All of highschool you have been a social butterfly. Despite your growing popularity, you've had yet to find yourself a suitable partner. Not that many haven't tried. They just didn't seem to be your type. The day of your eighteenth birthday, you began to get this wierd feeling. The feeling that someone was...watching. It was everywhere. At school, outside your home, in your bedroom, while you shower. For three months you've constantly ignored this strange feeling. Until one day, when you just couldn't take it anymore.
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