❝In which a celebrity dials a random number in hope of finding one last thing to make him smile before he commits suicide at the end of the month.❞
"I'm going to commit suicide in one months time."
"I think you have the wrong number."
"It can't be t...
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Cleo's feet couldn't quite touch the ground. Although, in all fairness to her petite height, her shoes along with her pleasantly tied laces were hovering only about an inch from the pavement below.
Next to the pair of trainers floating just above the face of the earth were a pair of trainers set firmly on the ground.
Both figures stared down at said trainers, swaying their legs back and forth in small movements. For all of their faceless conversations they had nothing to say to one another. Correction. Each of them had thousands of words that they wished to say; they simply did not have the sentences to speak them.
Every so often their legs would brush against each other, reminding the other that they were not alone. Not anymore.
And, as they sat on that wall just outside the jaws of the school, more words were spoken in silence than they had ever conversed with before.
