The bookshop

 Why don't malls keep anything crazy?

Whenever I visit these places its just so simple. A mall should behave like a mall. It should contain shops for books, 10 fancy spicy shop, 15 clothing brand displays and 20 food parlors. But its just so simple. Maybe its because of the place where I live. This city. Its, I guess, still undergraduate. Needs some advancement to be honest.

Actually. I have been to a book store once. There were like big, big shelves with each and every book having a gateway for a fictional universe. Fictional is kinda what we live for because everyone been knowing in their teenage about the real reality. It gets hard for me obviously so I come in here to breathe some parallel universes.

 
That was the first time i saw him outside of school.

I was into an adventurous teen fiction when he stood beside me to look for something. I was reading the back description and he couldn't find the thing. He then poked me on my shoulders with just one slight, gentle finger and i looked up and saw it. His eyes were deep red and kinda blue. Thats what the color of his eyes are, but today the whiter portions were kinda burnt and red. He was wearing a big black watch in his left hand wrist and waved it me to wake me up from my shock of seeing him here. Yes.

I then closed my half opened mouth and abruptly listened to his information about the book and took the one out. I disappeared in my book once again but he then also stood their, beside me, reading the description. Then I hastily kept the book back at its place and went away without saying a word. I think he looked back. But I bet he didn't.

I walked out and kept my fingers clenched in a tight fist ready to punch anyone or even get in a fight. I've never been in a fight before. This could be a great moment. But I couldn't find the scene anywhere.

 
I walked back towards my home, with my hands resting in my pockets, and often the sight of him kept coming in between me and my mind. I was alone in the street that evening.

 
I stopped and looked at the ground for a moment. At my shoes. I just realized that there was a shade of bubble gum pink painted above the basil background.

 
I looked up at the sky and at the clouds. Some of these look just like the stories he puts up on his social page. The familiarity above me was a signal of healing on his page. But the clouds didn't make me sober anymore. They didn't make me feel anything. And just with the empty heart, I kept walking towards my home until I reached the cliff. 

Where I belong.