Dear Ex-Girlfriend (Lesbian, Girlxgirl, Gay)

Chapter 4. The Morgan's

Chapter4. The Morgan's

I used to think that my house was located at the end of the street. I used to. In reality, we were third to the last. On our left was another house. It was abandoned before I was born. The owners reportedly tried to sell it when they moved out, but since living in Bear Creek wasn't as tempting as the city, the small property sat unoccupied for years.

If I were to go to my bedroom window and peek out, I'd be given a good view of the property's unkempt yard. The overgrowth of grass, flat tire, garden gnomes, and other junk was a familiar sight. Other people would call it spooky. I called it, backdrop.

After that house was the mansion. Technically it was the last on the street. Two-story tall, a circular driveway in front, Roman styled architecture. It looked like it belonged in another time and place. Certainly not in Bear Creek.

But if anyone were to ask me, aside from my house and the Ruins, the mansion has quickly become one of my favorite spots. After all, Genesis lived in it. Her bedroom also faced mine. All she had to do to see me was part the curtains, step through the door, walk to her balcony, and wave to me, which was exactly what she was doing now.

I uncapped the black marker and poised the tip on the whiteboard. 'Good Morning,' I wrote.

The letters were fainter than yesterday. Maybe I should run to the store later and buy another marker. For now, I made do with what I had, and pressed the whiteboard to my window.

Genesis peeped through her binoculars. The grin on her face after reading the message made me smile too. I'd do everything to see that every day. Anything.

She placed her binoculars on the cement handrail and leaned down. When she straightened back up, she was holding a whiteboard like mine.

It would take her seconds to come up with a reply. I used that time to step back and put the telescope in front of me. It was a gift from dad a few years back. It used to sit in my closet until months ago, when Genesis suggested for us to communicate this way. Since then, we've been drafting long messages to each other, even in the early hours of the day. Like now, for example.

She wrapped up her reply and held the board forward. I checked it through the telescope. 'Your room or mine?' she asked.

My fingers were shaking as I responded. 'As if we can go there.'

'You've been here several times,' she said.

'Not as much as I want to.'

I checked her reaction. Even without the telescope, the pout on her lips was still visible from this distance. So was the wrinkle on her forehead and the sadness on her face. Maybe I shouldn't have said that.

'Sorry,' I added on the whiteboard. 'I know your dad is strict. He doesn't like visitors.'

She lowered the binoculars and shook her head. Afterwards, she answered. 'You're not a visitor at all. You're special. I'll talk to dad about it.'

'Thanks,' I wrote. 'You're special too.' I erased the message with my hand and drafted another. 'I'll open the front door for you. See you in a bit.'

Three o'clock in the morning was the best time to go down the stairs. I wouldn't risk running into dad no matter what noise I made. He'd be too deep in Lalaland.

"Hi," Genesis whispered when I swung the door open. If it weren't for the flashlight on her hand and the automatic goosebumps I got from hearing her voice, I'd have a hard time telling who she was. It was too dark on the street.