two weeks passed since the incident after school. i didn't bring it up and you didn't either.
we had gotten closer over those weeks. i learned that you like to play the piano, and you would rather be reading a book than going to a party. you have never broken a bone and you're an only child.
we were working on a project one day in english. we weren't talking, but i wasn't able to focus. a question had been floating around my mind and i couldn't ignore it.
"why do you only wear long sleeves?"
you froze, which immediately made me even more curious. you turned your head slowly and met my eyes.
"i-uh..." you stuttered, subconsciously pulling your sleeve down farther. i furrowed my eyebrows.
"what's the problem?" i asked, my hand reaching out to touch yours. you pulled it away instinctively.
"i'm just cold all the time." you muttered, plastering on a fake smile. "so i wear long sleeves all the time to make sure i stay warm."
a part of me knew you were lying, but i decided to believe you anyway.
YOU ARE READING
i'm sorry.
Short Story(Completed) your body was a canvas and your father's fist was the paintbrush. lowercase intended
