# i don't know

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there are a lot of words to be said but none shall hear for all she ever did was write them down in that paper sheet and burn it afterwards.
those ashes…flying, flowing mid-air, circling around her as if they are singing to her ears, and saying those words back to her, telling her own stories.
that is a ritual she loves to do when her voice cracks, her throat thickens, and when she is all by herself, and when she types the last word of each page.
but little does she know that the boy next door always listens to her typing, even her silence breaks between each page, he heard it all and noted everything down when he first heard them.
and one day, by chance or fate or courage, he can give those words back to her and say: “I heard you”…

-R