When she smiles, shivers run down my back. Goosebumps appear on my pale skin. Butterflies flutter inside me.
Clayre.
"Samantha from Gretworth High, right?"
"Um, yeah. "
"You've changed. In a good way, I mean."
She beckoned her friends to come.
Oh no.
We're all gonna die.
Shit, man, absolute shit.
"This is my friend, Alissa. Alissa, meet Samantha. She goes to Gretworth, my old school."
I fake smiled.
Alissa looked like those bougie kids I talked about. Tan, blonde, rich with resting bitch face.
A look at my black hoodie and she said:
"So, are you like emo and homeless or something?"
"Just depressed, with a side of loneliness, thank you. "
I'm used to remarks like this.
Clayre looks genuinely sorry. A look I'm not used to.
Alissa breaks the silence, running from a rack of floral crop tops.
"Oh. My. God. We should totally wear this. This is so adorbs! "
I can't handle it anymore.
"Florals in spring? Groundbreaking."
YOU ARE READING
If I Die
Poetry"If I Die, would I be remembered?" Sam Carson is struggling with a lot of things. Mostly Life. Living between life and death, between forced choices and compulsions. Never at peace, always at war against emotions. Always thinking about death.
