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s.c.; gavin degraw - soldier 

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      about one week later.

midmost of april.

       After writing down that letter and folding it into a envelope, she did not know whether to think this was a good or bad decision. Walking down the side stairwell to the fifth floor. Slipping the note underneath the door and running back down the corridor, up the stairwell, and back into her apartment. Once safely behind her door that is now locked and bolted from the inside, she felt like she was battling with her inner and outer self. These thoughts clouded her mind while organizing books on the shelves. It keeps her distracted for the most part but never completely. She sighed and began to take all of the books off the shelves again and began to put them back on the shelves again, she has been doing the same process over the past couple of hours. Hearing the bell chime on the door, signaling that someone has entered the shop. 

        She stopped what she was doing and headed for the front counter to assist anyone that needs help. She sat herself on the geriatric wooden chair as it creaked a noise that echoed in the bookstore. She had become accustomed to the noise since she sat there for more than six hours a day. As the hours past and thanking customers for coming and to come again her shift at the bookstore finally ended on that breezy friday night. Saying a goodbye to May and that she will see her on monday again, she put her peacoat and scarf on and headed for the front door. But abruptly stopping at the sound of May's voice calling her name. 

'Irena, dear.' She turned around and saw that May was walking toward her, hobbling at times as she did so. 'Yes, May?' She smiled at the women, who could only smile as she would ever do often at times. 'I am going out of town for a couple of weeks maybe seven a month, my son is getting married and he wishes that I stay with him and his fiance till the wedding.' She spoke and smiled as she talked about her son finally getting married. She looked at May and gave her a wishing smile and nod. 'So you will not be needed around here till I return, but I am leaving the key with you if you wish to move things around for me or just read in the nook.' May smiled at her young worker, who was now stund at the thought of her leaving the key in her hands while she is away. 'I promise you it will look completely perfect and spotless when you return. Thank you, thank you May!' She exclaimed with excitement and could not wait to change up the setting of furniture and bookshelves in the store. 'I knew I could always count on you Irena. Goodnight dear.' With that May made her way back to the posterior of the bookstore and disappeared behind a case of books. 

        She began to walk home with the biggest smile on her face. All of thoughts in her mind were winding and twisting together as she ascended the stairwell of her apartment complex. She was too deep in though as she unlocked her front door of her apartment to notice a letter on her door mat. Taking off her outer wear and slipping off her ankle boots, she walked over to her kitchen and began to make herself some dinner since it was only seven at night. Hearing her mailbox on her door open and then slam close a second later, notifying that she had some mail to go through. She set her tea on her living room coffee table and walked over to the pastel white envelopes lying on her floor in a mess infront of her door. She whispered out loud, 'Bill, bill, magazine, and wha..?' Finally noticing the letter on the bottom of the mail pile, she set down the rest of it down on the coffee table and looked at the front of the letter. All it said was, I. Hawthourne in a familiar, jumbled cursive on the front of the envelope. Ripping open the letter and noticing some stains that were possibly from a mug, she saw and recognize who sent this to her, she read..,

                ' I. Hawthourne, 

                        Your letter was very impending to my thoughts. I could not bare to write after you told me to leave you alone when I do not know a thing about you. Yes, I did sleep in your bed with you, and I apologized for that incident and you accepted my apology wisely. If you wish for me to leave you alone and say not another word to you, write me another letter saying, Adieu. Do not sign it or address it. I sat here for the past couple of days trying to find the right words to write down on this piece of paper. Now that you have received it, I have and will now tell you. I am intrigued by your presence and nature. You excite me, but not in the way people would normally think. You are a story that is unwritten and waiting to be found and opened. I have to restrain myself from your innocent nature. I hope to see you very soon. '

                                                - Harry x.

        She set the letter on the table and sat back in her couch in fathomless thought. She thought, 'Why was I so special to this man? What made him want to know me?'. She could not come up with an answer or even think of a reason why on earth a guy like him would want a girl like her. She thought she a nobody, a invisible being who only went to work for something to do with her life. She only focused on her own aura but never her surroundings. She got out a piece of paper and started to write down who, what, where, and mostly why he would be spend his time on a girl like her. It took her hours to think of what to say, but eventually she came up with a reasons and questions for himself to answer. She decided not to give it to him for a couple of days or possibly even a week. She never moved from her spot until she glanced up to the clock on the wall and it said eleven p.m. She did not feel like sleeping right at that point. She was too busy thinking of his verdant eyes and head full of bronze curls. But she eventually fell into a deep slumber on her couch and surely her back muscles would be sore and stiff in the morning to come.

a.n.;

                I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter... as always.

                        - until next time. 

        - M. x

                sixteenth of september, twenty-fourteen

                        fifty-three past three p.m.

© fxckinstyles 

                        


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