17 | ONE LAST GIFT

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"Welcome passengers. This is your captain speaking. The flight to Los Angeles is about to embark after the instructions of the flight attendants. Please prepare to fasten your seatbelts. I wish you a good flight."

Once the words of the pilot end, soft whispers start circulating in the plane once again. I do as I'm told and I fasten my seatbelt. I've been far too many times on a plane before to listen to the instructions, so instead I spend the time before the beginning of the flight staring out the small window to my right.

There's an old guy in a Hawaiian inspired shirt sleeping next to me, which suddenly reminds me of my boyfriend back in first grade. My only boyfriend if you dont count Archer, that is.

Archer.

I start rummaging through the pockets of my favorite ripped jeans, searching for the piece of paper that he gave me right before I got on the plane.

"Take this and look at it only when you know there's no going back. Okay?" He smiled and kissed my forehead, making my eyes flutter closed and my heart twist uncomfortably. I then nodded but completely forgot about it until this moment.

"Bingo!" I almost shout in anticipation, slightly disturbing the man next to me who groans and snores in protest of his loud neighbor.

I take my time unfolding the paper, as if I'm holding some kind of treasure and not a ragged white piece of a notebook that is probably a leftover from after we graduated.

Until I am done with my careful handling of the letter, we are already in the sky, growing faster and going higher and higher.
The way I hope my life is going to go.

I wiggle a bit in my seat and prepare my packet of handkerchiefs, just for good measure.

To Jordy.

Hi there. I'm really bad at writing letters but I'll try my best so bear with me.
You know me, I'm Archer Finn and I've had the biggest crush on you for a long long time. I always tried to make you jealous by going out with other girls, I was stupid enough to even sleep with your best friend (who I hope you've found out is a jerk). Not that I'm not a jerk, but, well, I don't really know what to say to defend myself so I'll just move on with trying to be romantic for once. The only thing I know about romanticism doesn't have anything to do with relationships, so instead(as an excuse for being that awkward douchebag who called you 'baby' and hoped that this was romantic enough) I'll show you how I feel in poetry.
Which I regret not reading to you back in Bailey's, by the way.

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
-

William Wordsworth

We'll meet again, my little blue birdie.
No matter if its today,
tomorrow,
next year
or in another live
and then I'll finally be able to call you mine (and 'baby' but only because I love to tease you).

Yours truly,
sir Douche

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