incomplete | short story

9

          "Y-you never let me come to your house"

          "Is there a problem?"

          "N-no"

           "Good"

It was awfully silent for a few minutes, until they finally reached his flat. She has obviously never been in his flat before, and he didn't have the time to adjust her presence. So when he saw her sitting on his couch reading one of his favourite books, he absolutely lost it. 

           "What do you think you're doing!"

           "W-what?"

His loud voice frightened her and she dropped the book. All of the pages scattered out and he gasped, running towards it. She bent down to help him pick the hundreds of pages that fell out of place, but he hissed harshly.

           "Leave it!"

His voice was way different than his normal tone. Usually, his voice would be high and fast, but right now, it was low and slow. And to be straightforward; she was afraid, wait no- she was beyond afraid, she was timorous.

           "M-Marcel, I'm s-sorry"

           "You ruined my book"

           "Sor-"

           "You ruined my book!"

           "I SAID I WAS SORRY!"