Chapter One
Friday, November 17th 20**, 3:45 PM
“And hold on to your words 'cause talk is cheap
and remember me tonight when you're asleep-”
Secondhand Serenade - Fall For You
To that one who is, and always was my other half
Isn’t it funny how a moment can make the difference between winning and loosing? Isn’t it sad how a moment can be the difference between life and death?
Isn’t it strange how a single moment can change everything you knew? Isn’t it awful that with sixty-seven hundred seventy-five million people in this world that nobody will notice you?
Almost seven billion people, seven billion souls, seven billion pairs of ears to listen, seven billion eyes that could see you, only one pair notices, only one soul, one person. And only that person can save you in that moment between life and death.
Out of all those people, all you really need is one.
But me, I have none.
November 12th, 20**
Armed with a letter opener, she wept, a pile of letters, opened and unopened, in different states of destruction, some envelopes yellowed, others crumpled up and even a few with burn marks, looking like they had been tossed in a fire and then saved moments later, as if the author had changed his mind on what to do with it.
Her dark blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders, her gray eyes glazed over with tears.
Dammit, dammit, dammit! her mind wretched.
Piles and piles of letters, addressed to the author’s other half she had found in a box with only a note as introduction.
For at least the hundredth time, she read over the note she had found in the top of that small, hand carved wooden box she had found all the letters in.
The simple piece of notebook paper, scribbled on in the same hand all the letters were written in, its by now familiar loops and ink spots glaring at her like old friends.
She smoothed the paper out again, biting back the pain in her throat, threatening to bubble up and make her cry again.
The letters and that introduction note were stained by tears, some of them having belonged to her, others by the author she suspected.
The black ink waving at her, she read the lines she had read so often, even though she could have recited it by heart then.
I think I know why it hurts now-- the girl read, her shoulders heaving.
YOU ARE READING
All I Need
RomanceIsn't it funny how a moment can make such a big difference? Fawn does not expect anything. She only expects things to go slow and at her pace, but when they speed up and get out of control, how will she deal with them? Will Fawn learn to cope with...
