Forty-three | 15 days, 8th hour
“Maybe you just wanted to see me,” Mr. Lowell grins at me, taking out a stack of history books for me to see. About thirty minutes ago, I’d come here with the idea of returning the books I borrowed the week before – not borrow another set. I let out a snicker, rolling my blue eyes at the man. “If I really, really wanted to see you, I would have visited during the weekends,” I jest, and we both end up laughing since he knows I did miss him – even though he’s a teacher. “I really can’t believe you got new history books for me!” “You seemed to really love them.” “I do love them,” I correct, picking up a thick book. He checks them out in a matter of seconds, and I open one, smelling that new book smell I love so much. I feel my eyes flutter at the heavenly scent. Nothing could be better.
- Writer
