Note Fifty-Eight
"I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me,
I'm not calling you a ghost, just stop haunting me."
"Sam, take me home. Now." I said, gripping the door handle tightly. The look on Sam's face became crestfallen as he registered the fact that I was upset, no, beyond upset.
"Listen Cora-"
"Take me home."
"Cora."
"Sam! I told you. I don't want to get into a relationship."
"It's not a relationship. I just want to know if you want to go to Homecoming with me. Look, I even brought you two dozen flowers." He gestured to the trunk of his car, and I groaned, burying my head into my hands.
"Fine. I'll take you home." He muttered finally, starting the engine. "I was really looking forward to some spaghetti."
YOU ARE READING
The Bathroom Stall
Short StoryA short story of an abandoned bathroom stall door giving desperate, heartbroken girls relationship advice, hot guys incorrectly trying to woo hearts, a stupid dare in action, and irrationality ruling the minds of every character.
