[her]
picking up the polaroid,
she realises.
that's her.
she was baffled.
how did this random person,
get a picture of her?
and it wasn't even a recent one.
it was one of when she was eight.
that may sound creepy but,
she knew her gut had been right.
her eyes had started to water,
stinging.
she wasn't prepared to read the letter,
knowing it was likely to be from him.
at that moment,
a teacher she didn't recognise entered.
mr finkle is not here today,
you may do whatever you wish.
she was grateful for that,
because it meant no mr 'bald-dude'.
but that meant she won't be able to hide,
hide from the letter,
delay the reading of it.
asking for a pass,
she walked out of class.
the enveloped weighed in her pocket,
as she wandered around the school,
no point of destination in mind.
she walked about,
looking down at her feet,
when she realised the linoleum floor,
turned to concrete and asphalt.
finally looking up,
her eyes immediately went to a certain car.
blue with streaks and splats,
she couldn't tear her eyes away.
nostalgia hit her in waves,
compelling her to walk towards the car.
and she did.
{he's still passed out so, it wouldn't make sense for me to have his POV. hahaah, I hope yall understand :P}
YOU ARE READING
Nameless
Short StoryShe sits in the middle of the class, He sits at the back. She craves to be alone, He craves for her attention. She waits for this to end, He waits for everything to begin. {Inspired by foreversmilin's flowery compass series, the style at least}
