Thought of the day, Compass: Is today the day?
Yes.
Yes it is.
8:35. Today is the day.
8:42. Today is the day.
8:55. Today is the day.
8:57. Am I really going to do this?
8:58. Today is the day.
8.59. Fuck it. Today is definitely the day, Compass.
North felt his smile crash and burn in that moment. Reading over the abundance of notes lining the bathroom stalls back wall his shaky hands carefully traced each letter with dimming brown eyes.
He wasn't entirely certain what the hollow feeling in his gut was. All that he knew in that moment was that whatever he had with Duck had come to an end. He was finally going to talk to Mr. Doubtful.
Curling the notes in his palm was oddly cathartic. As was watching the paper float along the surface of the toilet bowl. North took a moment before hitting the flush button, Duck's words spinning down the pipes, disappearing from view.
Kicking the lid back down he made out another post-it note. Green and covered in black pen. He didn't read it, hands reaching out and crushing it, he buried whatever parting words Duck left him into his pocket. In its place he left a toilet paper square marked with seven final words.
Dear Duck,
Good Luck.
With Friendship,
Compass.
YOU ARE READING
YOUR ONE LAST LINE |✔️|
Short Story*Watty's Shorts Winner, 2020* While cleaning out empty lockers during detention, North Kingsley comes across a battered textbook filled with off-beat and personal messages written in awful handwriting. On a whim he writes them a message back. Days...
