by etherealwishes


“Why do you like me?”
He asked while writing something on a paper, eyes never faltering in every letter he makes.
“I should ask you the same.”
She said, her attention all on him, always all on him. That caught his attention too.
“But I don’t like you.”
She smiled, as bright as a two-year old lightbulb.
“I know,”
stressing those two syllables. She then stood up and left him hanging.