Im writing about history, Alone. I keep writing and writing. Making a lot of mistakes—Hmph. Why can’t I write well?—I guess it’s just my life. I hear somebody enter. But I don’t dare look away from my book. Not my business.. until you sat next to me. I glanced at u. My eyes widen—Is it really you!? Is this all a dream? “Y/n..! It’s really you!?” I pull u into a tight hug. I’m crying into ur shoulder.. you look like a total different person..
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