“I’m sooo fucked up!” he screamed, staring blankly at the screen of his cell phone that was blinking frantically. “God, I miss her so much!”

“Then why don’t you pick up the phone?” I muttered.

“Shit, no way! It’ll be too easy for her!” he shouted in anger as he slipped back that cell phone into the pocket of his jeans.

We looked at each other and sat in silence for a few minutes, before we realized the fact that it was 3:30 a.m. and the word “sleep” sounded tempting.

So we went to sleep.
It wasn’t a nice sleep after all.
Our so-called ‘pride’ was just too much for the pillow to bear.

hanny

If you made it this, far, please say 'hi'. It really means a lot to me! :)

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I am an Indonesian writer/artist/illustrator and stationery web shop owner (Cafe Analog) based in Amsterdam, the Netherlands. I love facilitating writing/creative workshops and retreats, especially when they are tied to self-exploration and self-expression. In Indonesian, 'beradadisini' means being here. So, here I am, documenting life—one word at a time.

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