The Book of Short Stories

Just a bunch of short stories I write when I'm bored


2. I Wonder

It hurts, I miss him. I really want to talk to him again, but how, what would I say?

"Our song came on the radio last night, I thought maybe you'd like to know."

He would probably give me a weird look and say something like "What would make you think I'd give the slightest fuck about a song that now means shit to me."

Maybe I could just come out and simply say that I missed him. No not that either, he would tell me off. What if I told him I was sorry? Maybe he would accept my sincere apology and come back to me, we could be like we use to be.

I miss him I really do. But I'm in jail now, I can't just call him up and tell him this. He doesn't come to visit me anymore, he doesn't want me to be a part of his life. What I did was wrong and that's why I'm here right now in my cell staring at the stone wall. It's so lonely and quite here. I sometimes wonder how I have not gone insane. I do sometimes catch myself talking to these empty walls as if they were him. Speaking my apologies and using them as my crying shoulder. I should have never killed her.
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