I've been cleaning my room all day despite still being really sick.
And I just found a little red notebook that I had while in London, and also used it for some stuff over the summer.
Stupidly, I started to flip through it.
And I stumbled upon a few sketches.
Sketches of a little story that I had mailed to my ex while I was in London.
About me being on a fort on a mountain, unwilling to come out for anyone or let anyone in.
Until this one guy came along, and made me feel safe enough to come out.
And I drew these little chibis along with the story, and I forgot that I had sketched them out beforehand in this little notebook.
...
Part of me thinks a sequel is in order.
My chest feels like it is on fire, and not in a good way at all.
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