A Watty Award winner and a featured Wattpad novel.
Five years ago, Maddie Hyun and her best friend Peter made a pact. Now it's time to follow through.
21.04.16 → 20.10.16
Sunday morning started badly. It often did. That particular day of the week seemed to be unfairly targeted, as though the world had a vendetta against it. When Maddie had opened her eyes that morning, she had been greeted by sheets of rain slamming against her window so hard and fast that she couldn't even see the road outside her house. It didn't feel much like it was almost the beginning of August, but it was.
As she ate breakfast in silence, she sighed. Boredom reigned. Even raising her spoon to her mouth bored her. The past few days had been some of the most mind-numbingly boring, so ordinary and unexciting, that she struggled to find the motivation to even feed herself.
Just one of those days, she told herself.
On top of the terrible weather and the mundanity of it being Sunday, at some point in the night Maddie's phone charger had decided to stop working. For some reason, she seemed to only own the solitary cable, and her phone's battery had only been at thirty percent when she had woken up. It was already too close to ten.
Even her father couldn't help her now. En route to the shop, he had been called into work last minute with the promise of double time. That wasn't something he could say no to, so Maddie ate alone.
The cornflakes were boring. Her tea was boring, having run out of Earl Grey and forcing her to settle for builder's instead. It wasn't a choice she ever made, and she was beginning to wonder if it was valid as a last resort or if she would have been better off just having coffee.
With a sigh, she unlocked her phone again and opened up her texts.
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Maddie chuckled to herself. Even via text, Posy could always bring a smile to her face. She pulled her feet up onto her chair, her knees pressed against the table, and held her phone in both hands as she aimlessly scrolled through all her old conversations. A terror at keeping on top of her phone's tidiness, there were still one-off messages from years ago clogging up her inbox. If she ever bothered to scroll back far enough, Peter's and her conversations could be traced all the way back to 2010, when she had first got the number.
She opened their conversation, something she had done a lot recently, scrolling through all the messages they'd exchanged to see if there was some extra meaning behind any of words. He was indecipherable.
