A year ago: At exactly 11:34 pm, James knocks softly on my window (my room is on the ground floor). Now, you may be wondering; how, exactly, did you hear a soft knock on your window when you were (supposively) asleep? Mind your own business. I sit up and pretend I wasn’t awake reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. I walk across my room and open the window. “Hey! You’re awake!” he exclaims “So are you.” An awkward silence passes between us before I ask “So… what are you doing here at 11:34 pm, when both of us are supposed to be asleep?” “Uh… I wanted to see you…?” A sudden burst of fury that I didn’t know I had in me takes hold. “Oh yeah? You wanted to see me? Now, of all times? You ghosted me for TWO MONTHS, JAMES. TWO. MONTHS. And now you think you can just saunter up to my house, knock on my window, and pretend everything is fine?? Because it's not. Go back home and work on your stupid bird.” James looks like he is in shock. He also looks like he wants to say sorry, which is about the last thing I want to hear from him right now. Thankfully, he seems to decide not to, which is a good thing for both my criminal charges and his physical well being. He stares at me for a minute, and then slowly walks away. I close my window and climb back into bed, feeling numbed. Did I really just do that? Did I really tell James to go home, after waiting months for him to acknowledge me? Apparently I did. 11 months ago: James still isn’t talking to me. Like, ignoring-me-whenever-we-see- each-other-and-crossing-the-street-to-avoid-me not talking to me. What have I done?
Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1308166587/ First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1306637557/ Studio: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/51545451/
