A reply?
What did he even write?
"It depends." She murmured, brushing past him as she headed to the library to pick the book she had been talking about.
There was really nothing else to do…
He was the only interesting thing in the tire house to her, which was why it was so hard to understand why everyone else called him a bore.
After retrieving her book, she returned to her room. Only then did she open the paper.
"For what?" Was written there in the most beautiful cursive she had ever seen.
So he also had nice handwriting?
Eve rushed to her desk to fetch her writing tools.
When she was done scribbling, she folded it carefully before going to take a long nap.
Sleep always managed to elude her, and her dreams of him were becoming more infrequent as the days passed.
