A boy sat next to the girl that was next to the window. He was one of the neighbor’s son. He had the most beautiful green eyes you could see. He even had to most perfect curls.
“Harry.” The boy introduced him self. She knew who he was. She always stare at him playing basketball outside of his house.
“Amaya.” The girl said, but then soon continue looking out the window.
She couldn’t look at him any longer. His perfect eyes reminded her of how perfect she thought her godmother’s eyes were.
Hazel.
Her godmother’s eyes were hazel. They were so beautiful that you couldn’t dare look away. Especially when her godmother smiled. Her cheek would rise when she smiled and she couldn’t help but smile when her godmother smiled.
The whispers told her how pathetic she is for thinking these things. But she has been called worse.
Amaya finally looked back at the boy to see if he was still there.
He was.
YOU ARE READING
The Funeral
Short StoryThat day, she met Him. That day, he left her. That day, everyone mourned over two deaths.
