oneword.com

She catapulted downwards through the air, feeling the excitement bubble through her veins like an erupting fizzy drink.

Spinning to and fro, she looked up to smile at her friend back in the helicopter, only to find her friend tumbling through the sky without a parachute.

I peered out the window of the plane, hoping to see some sunset or some skyline or something. It had just been clouds, clouds, clouds. Plus a little lightning, just to shake things up.

(I didn’t really like the lightning. But the babies loved it, I assure you.)

We both stare at each other, thinking unspeakable words.

I’m sorry. I forgive you.

But we can’t say those things. Not in front of other people, not when we’re supposed to be strong and thinking about other things. Not after we already promised each other to move on.

Maybe that’s just an excuse in our heads. Maybe we’re just not saying the things we need to say because we’re scared.

My mouth remains closed. But I know what I’m going to say, when the time is right. I’ve already said it in my head a million times.

“How stupid are you?!” the teacher yelled, whacking me on the back of the head. “Do you need me to simplify things to you all the time? Can’t you do something by yourself for once?”

I sat quietly in my seat, wondering if it wasn’t a teacher’s JOB to teach things.

Burning. Scalding. The hot coffee trickles down my hand, feeling like molten wax.

I yelp and jump away from the now empty cup, in too much pain to watch it clatter to the floor. Everyone around me looks at me as if I’m crazy.

“What are you doing?” screams my boss, rising out of his chair, and in doing so he spills his own hot coffee all over his new suit.

I haven’t seen you in years, so I decided to scroll through your Facebook timeline.

Top of the class. Full marks. In this newspaper, that article. Performing here, excelling there.

Going to Oxford.

I “like” your status, although I don’t really like it at all.