Pieces of Paper

I'm not going to explain this story, simply because I do not think it needs to be explained. It's self explanatory and predictable and, as the title suggests, cheesy.

When I finally got 'round to sorting out all the paper that made up most of my bedroom's mess, I could tell it was a mistake to start at seven in the evening. Still, at least I was getting it done.

It was obvious it was going to take several hours longer than necessary because of my tendency to have to read bits of writing that I'd forgotten about. Especially since these bits of writing were usually at least a page long.

Most of it was story ideas that had gone unfinished, or random scenes that I'd scribbled down. Some of them... were not.

I hated finding things that jogged memories I'd rather have forgotten. Things I'd tried my damn hardest to forget. And this one time, I almost cried.

As I picked up some paper that had all been folded together, likely to stop it getting separated, I noticed something else out of the corner of my eye. It was immediately recognisable to me as the middle pages of an A5 school workbook, although it was folded multiple times. 

The small amount of handwriting visible wasn't mine, but I knew whose it was. And I hated that. I could have just thrown it away without unfolding it. Or torn it up, like I did with the notes he wrote to me, and like I eventually did with the Christmas card he sent me. But I didn't. 

I suppose it was my own fault for not getting rid of the thing at one of the countless chances I'd had. But it was just... I don't know. Sentimental value.

The notes had gone because I had put them somewhere where I knew I'd see them, then couldn't be bothered to move them. Then I'd got annoyed and then angry that they were there and thrown them away.

The Christmas card was more difficult because it said "I love you" inside it. I'd started off by hiding it and pretending it didn't exist. But it always managed to show itself and then one day, I dunno what happened, but I ended up ripping it apart.

And then there was the. The List of Cheesy Couple Things We Should Never Do, as it read. I'd hidden it and forgotten about it and hidden it and forgotten about it but never got rid of it. We'd done this together, and I just couldn't let it go.

As I read it through, I found myself ticking off the things we'd forgot to. There were seventy four things on the list, and of those we hadn't done twenty six. Some of the things weren't even cheesy, they were just typical. And we'd even written things we knew we'd do or had already done.

Secretly, we'd planned to do everything on the list, but we never did. We never did...

The End

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