In the halls of Lincoln High, the brilliant but introverted Kiara excels in academics, her world revolving around grades and scholarly pursuits. In stark contrast, there's Ryan-the charming, carefree extrovert who effortlessly navigates social circl...
I woke up and looked around and did not find my room. Then I realised it's dehradun , my brother's house not mine.
Shit. School's at 8. I kept my blanket in the drawer just below my bed and got up. I brushed my teeth and got a shower.
It's day 2 and I am still nervous. This anxiety won't ever go.
Nervous of the interaction that will happen today.
Anxious about my lost poetry book. I wonder who found it. I hope they haven't read it for GOD'S sake.
I pushed the thoughts away and changed my clothes. Our school has no uniform. This truly is like an american school. Though they have adapted foreign education system, the cultures of India, the festivals of India are celebrated here with great enthusiasm and that's the thing I love about this school the most.
I changed into my green turtle neck top that hung to my waist and brown pants full length. I made a ponytail and applied moisturizer on my skin. I looked at myself in the mirror. Any pretty isn't pretty enough. I look slim maybe I should change-
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Kiara's outfit
The bus horned at the gate. Shit! I don't have time to change .I rushed to pick up my bag and got into the bus.
I sat on the window side of a seat, the same seat where I sat yesterday. Ryan, Ishir already sitting at the last and a few more kids I don't know . I kept my bag aside and-
I found my poetry book in the right corner of the seat. Thank GOD it's safe. I guess no one picked it up. The last thing I wanted was someone to read it. Still, I quickly checked the book checking of any signs that the book was opened. Wait what-
As I opened the first page of my poetry of roses and insecurity ,at the bottom corner of the page I saw something written which wasn't written by me.
GOD Damn it. Someone has read my book. I can't help but feel embarrassed. Not only have they read the book but they replied to it.
"Often, it's the overlooked, genuine things that hold the most beauty. You're not just a weed near a rose; you're that unexplored chapter in a book that holds treasures waiting to be discovered. " ~anoymous
I traced the lines of the verse. It etched behind my verses. I read again and the words sank deeper every time.
A smile tugged at the bottom corner of my mouth. My heart fluttered from acknowledgement. My thoughts spun off questions.
Who could have written this response? Why did these words feel so familiar yet so mysterious?
I closed the book gently, my heart dancing with a curiosity.A part of me wished to unravel the mystery behind the anonymous poet's words, curious about the person who mirrored my thoughts through ink and paper.
