"Stacey, please." I held onto her arm, begging. "I need to know what happened to him. You must know. Please tell me."
She carefully loosened my grip on her arm. "I really don't know anything."
"No, you do. You just chose not to tell me. I need to know, Stacey. You have no idea how much he means to me. Please."
"I'm sorry," she said, turning her back to leave.
"Please," I cried.
She turned around.
YOU ARE READING
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Short StoryAt 00:00, Cinderella ran away from her prince, leaving a glass slipper on the marbled steps of the grand staircase. At 00:00, I ran away from him. Unlike Cinderella, I didn't leave a single thing behind. © sonderingly
