Addison
That day started like any other. And that was the problem. Christopher arrived late, as always, with his backpack poorly closed and his head full of useless thoughts like "if I walk strangely, everyone will notice." Nobody noticed it. They never noticed it. I do. We were sitting in the cafeteria with the group: Bruno, who spoke without a filter; Mara, who laughed at everything; Leo, who was emotionally tired; and Christopher, who pretended to be fine as if it were a poorly rehearsed theater performance. "Christopher," said Bruno, "if I die tomorrow, I want you to know that it was because I ate this pizza." "That doesn't make sense," Leo responded. We're all dying to eat pizza, just slower. "Poetic," I said. They should write that on your tombstone. Mara looked at Christopher. —Hey, are you okay? You are quiet. More than normal. "I'm fine," he said quickly. Too fast. I raised an eyebrow. —Translation: it's not right, but he doesn't want to explain it. "Thank you, Addison," Christopher murmured. —That's what I'm here for.
About Addison
That day started like any other. And that was the problem. Christopher arrived late, as always, with his backpack poorly closed and his head full of useless thoughts like "if I walk strangely, everyone will notice." Nobody noticed it. They never noticed it. I do. We were sitting in the cafeteria with the group: Bruno, who spoke without a filt...Read more