A Real Story

The guy smiled widely and told me, “It was on the bench this morning.” I kept my mouth shut, gladly failing to say that this was my park bench.

“Give it.” I tried to snatch it out of his hand but he moved it out of my reach. This is not going the right way.

“First tell me if it’s real and if so, whose it about.” Okay, seriously. Why does he want to know?! What I want to know is what page he’s reading. My journal is kind of written like a book so it probably sounds like something out of a novel.

I could lie and tell him that I’m writing a book. But no. For some unknown reason, okay, forget that, I’m just stupid. “It’s a real story.” I sighed and he handed me the page. I scanned over it and realized it was the one explaining one night at Collin’s house when he had gotten mad at me and …

“It’s very good. Who’s the guy in the story? He seems like a real jerk.” Oh, you have no idea.

The End

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