F i f t e e n

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"It's her gift, to make everyone fall for her smile, and push them away with her sadness."

After minutes of awkward silence that engulfed the three of us, we had all finished our drinks, thankfully. I had never been in more desperation to get away from a situation than the one I had just been sat in. The silence at the corner table had made our blood as cold as the autumnal air that crept through an open window months back, well, mine did anyway.

Suddenly, Ren shot up from her seat before grabbing all shopping bags and slipping out of her seat, "everyone ready to go?" She asks and the two of us, Fletcher and I, exchange glances before nodding slowly and slipping out of our seats. Steps in front walked Ren with her head hung high and her arms barely able to carry the bags she had taken with her and behind walked Fletcher and I, side by side, with the silence continuing to hover over the two of us like a murky cloud on a cloudy winter's day.

As the crowds decreased from the time Ren and I had entered the mall, a small portion of people were still milling around which somehow caused me to have an increasing heartbeat once again as I had before, this time lighter but still gave just as bad of a feeling in the pit of my stomach making me ever so slightly nauseous.

But as usual, I said nothing but kept walking forward battling what seemed like everything in my body: my mind to stop the echoing voices from swirling in my mind causing unnecessary over thinking and messy thoughts appearing in my head, my body to not let the contents of my stomach spill across the mall's surface along with my guys and dignity, my legs not to collapse, everything.

Suddenly, Ren snaps her head in our direction and her eyes meet with Fletcher's brown orbs, "do you want to catch a ride with us?" She asks and for some reason, my mind screams no but something other cheers and whispers yes making me awfully confused what to react like, hell what to even feel.

I notice him take his hands from his coat pockets with something dangling in his hands, a black fabric of some sort. He fiddles with the fabric, with pulls and twists he pauses as his facial expression once again turns into his familiar 'deep in thought' face which all of a sudden I seem to see that maybe that face had two faces, a hidden meaning. Maybe it wasn't a thinking face, maybe it was a nervous face. Or perhaps a sad expression. Personally, I couldn't particularly figure out which one of the three it was or whether it was the latter of them all merged together.

I wonder if I'm as hard to read as Fletcher seems to be. Probably not, I think as I glance at his face and then sliding my gaze to his hands which fiddled around a piece of black fabric with large holes scattered across the material.

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