My friend loved to smile, and when she did, she had small dimples on the sides of her cheeks.
Her room was quite a mess yesterday. She pulled out lumps of clothes from the closet and tossed them carelessly on the floor. She sat motionlessly in front of the camera, looking straight into my eyes.
I told her to clean her room because it was the most I could do on the other side of her screen.
She started by folding her clothes. They looked very heavy in her hands, and I wish I could crawl across the screen and do it for her.

After she finished, she sat on the bed and stared into space with a blank, childish, and almost inquiring expression. To be alive, to feel the warmth and the circulation of the blood is to assume that tomorrow will always be better naturally. How far is tomorrow from the present? It seemed as if a million lightyears away, from her small, squared room.
So I assume her lovely dimples and her fearless smile could only appear as illusions of the past. Her dimension disconnected itself from when she was able to smile. But there’s nothing much I could do nine thousand kilometres away.


3 thoughts on “PW”

  1. Cecilia,

    that is a very beautifully written short story and i truly wish I could help you.
    How ever you might want to consider writing an introduction to it, it would really help to really get into the story easier.

  2. Hey! Lovely story, nice job on your grammar and spelling! Would love to see an introduction for a little bit of context.


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