Because of James Silversmith, my life is in shambles. What did he do? Nothing. I did this to myself. I’m William Carpenter (but most people call me Will), and this is the story of my last year and a half. A year and a half ago: I walk outside after a breakfast of eggs, and I see James. It’s not like I didn't know he existed. We just weren't close. I say hi, and he says hi back. We’re both going to the village market, so we walk together, engaging in small talk like how nice the weather is (it's boiling hot) and how it’s so sad that Anna’s dog passed away (he was mean and grouchy). His golden hair flies freely in the wind, as he is one of the few boys that can afford a wig but doesn't wear one. We walk all the way to the farmers market, then go our separate ways. A year and five months ago: It’s kind of become our ritual to walk together. It started out as a "coincidence" (really me timing my walk perfectly with his) to a Saturday tradition. Our conversations started shifting from small talk about the weather to actual conversations. For example, today our conversation went like this: “Hi!” “Hello!” “So, how’s your latest silver bird coming? Did you get the expression right?” “Ah, no, it still looks psychotic. I think it might be the beak. It’s pointed upward too much, I believe.” “Oh, that sucks. You’ll get it next time, I’m sure.” Turns out the “next time” I was talking about was a year later, also known as 500 more “next times” later.
Heyyyyy new short story alert!!! I'ma actually continue this one lol First: This is the first Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1307120880/ Studio: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/51545451/
