It was a dark, breezy night as I sat on the balcony. I was alone, except for the crescent moon and the stars that lingered above me. It was peaceful.
I constantly thought about Mom and Dad. Though it was nothing but a blur, only a few memories were recalled. I only had a childhood with them, and as I create more memories, the older ones seemed to fade. I tried to cherish them, and when I remembered one, I write it down in a little journal I kept under my mattress.
For only being seven years old when my mother died, I do remember her beautiful features: bleach blonde hair, brown eyes, and the freckles I inherited. For Dad, on the other hand - his brown hair with blue eyes, a tall figure, and his kind personality.
"What are you doing out here?" a familiar, deep Boston accent lingered through the warm, breezy northeastern air. I turned my head to look at the tall, tanned boy who shut the sliding door behind him. He took the lounging chair beside me.
"Nothing," I answered, pushing myself up from my relaxed position.
He lit a cigarette. The lighter illuminated his face, his hand cuffing the end of his cigarette, blocking the breeze from blowing out the flame.
"I didn't know you smoked," I spoke. He took a drag and blew out the excess smoke. He held the cigarette between his fingers beside his thigh and waited for the smoke to settle.
"There's a lot you don't know about me."
I leaned my back on the lounge chair and stared at the starry sky. I glanced at him from a distance. The night sky drew his figure, and I could feel his eyes upon me. By only knowing him for a few days and not having anything to talk about, I felt awkward.
"How have you been?" he inquired. He leaned back against the back of the lounging chair, making himself comfortable.
"Good," I answered. "You?"
A smirk overtook his face. "Good - now that I've come back," he trailed off. "I wasn't a big fan of Boston."
"How come?" I wondered.
"To make a long story short, you can get yourself in to a lot of trouble there," he spoke.
I nodded my head as I listened to him. I didn't ask any further questions due to him already making a "long story short."
"Do you really not remember me? You seem to be. . . awkward around me. You used to hate me," he softly laughed.
I looked at him and shook my head no. "Which it might be a good thing – not having someone hate you," I trailed off.
He shifted his weight around in the chair. "You not hating me is just taking one more person off the list of people that do."
I stood from my chair and went to stand, looking over the balcony railing. Sitting in that chair made everything so uncomfortable just by being three feet from him. Now that I had my back to him, it was a little less tense since I didn't have to look at him.
I don't know why I felt uneasy. Maybe it was because someone that I didn't know is slowly coming around, and it's not something I'm used to. I haven't made a friend in a very, long time. Though it is partially my fault, however.
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What It Seems | Wattys 2023
Teen FictionAdalynne Claire finds an old family photo album filled with pictures from her childhood. She holds hardly any memory of the photos until the album is dusted off and opened. Years of captured pictures flood the album - those of her late parents, her...