At night, I sat on my bed, staring out the window. Maybe half an hour I would be here, doing nothing. In my mind, there was something different from today, but I myself was confused as to what it was. For some reason now I find it very curious to know who sent Dova's letter. Was that a love letter?
Ah, why would I care about that cold-hearted guy!
Hurriedly I pulled back my blanket and put my head on the pillow, and then I closed my eyes for a few moments, hoping I would fall asleep. May night soon follow morning, worn off the exhaustion that was trapped inside me.
Half an hour was gone. It turned out I couldn't sleep. Like, at all.
I was overwhelmed with questions about letters to Dova. Who sent it? Why dova, anyway? Were there no other guys in school? Please, I hope I didn't care, bu
