The story of youth
How the story ends. What happens to boys. What about a girl
The boy and the girl first meet at the beginning of the first year of high school. Boys are cheerful and confident, which is the appearance that girls like. I don't like it, but the boys are nice. The girl's cheerful nature is just the pressure of high school the pressure of class makes her a little breathless. Always used to be a good student, high school again and again, the grades made her produce a gap. The girl becomes introverted, unwilling to speak or even inferior. Although the same class, the boy and the girl have never spoken a word. The first time girl and boy is heard that the boy sings well. Yes, the girl was voice-activated and was hooked on his voice the first time she heard it. So boys and girls are connected by music. Divided into classes, the girl naturally chose the liberal arts, to escape the rationalization that made her tired and made her inferior. The boy naturally continued to be an excellent student in science class. As a result, there are fewer opportunities for boys and girls to meet. Luckily, PE class is in the same section. The girl is fond of sports, just in order not to embarrass every time choose to press the playground secretly watch the boy play. He is different from other boys in that he is more interested in badminton than football and basketball. On the badminton court, he is the king. On the girl's birthday, the boy wished her well and sang to her. Girls look at boys, boys look at girls. Whenever the eyes are opposite, the girl will look away embarrassedly, and the boy seems to disapprove. Every chance encounter has become the most beautiful story. The girl seems to secretly like the boy, but the boy's reputation is not good, in the eyes of others is a complete cheating and playing with women's feelings of the man. And in the eyes of the girl it's a rumor and the girl chooses to believe the guy and chooses to believe the guy who is real enough for her. I thought the boy and the girl would get together. Then came the news that the boy had changed schools. The first person he told was the girl, and she was very sad that night." We are not familiar enough with the reasons for separation." The day of the hike was the boy's last day at school. Countless encounters, the girl wants to tell the boy wants to talk with the boy face to face, but the girl does not have the courage, thought will miss from now on let it become a regret. School was late that day, and the young man who had been showing off his debauchery on the playground was again squatting on his turf. The girl gathered her courage to walk towards him, and the boy stopped his actions to walk towards the girl. The hug was brief and beautiful. Became the most beautiful memories of boys and girls. The girl did not know where the courage came from that day, just secretly happy for a long time.
The boy is gone. But he's still in contact with the girl. Boys are sensitive people who are hard on themselves and find girls every time they are unhappy. As the relationship grew closer, they became good friends. The story is not as imagined Mary Sue, boy and girl are not together. A year passed, boys and girls would only wish each other on festivals. Once in a while the boy would complain and the girl would stew chicken soup for his soul. The relationship gradually fades, and the love that once existed may have already disappeared.
A naughty let them have contact only in exchange for the boy depression news. The girl was surprised and self-reproached. Girls start to fade away while boys suffer from depression. And the girl doesn't know it. Boys don't think about healing, what girls should do, what girls can do.
About the Creator
Until You Understand
You wake somewhere new. No memory of the night before. Light arrives from no visible source and refuses to cast shadows. The walls are pale, unmarked, faintly warm. The room has edges but no corners. Sound travels too cleanly. There is a door behind you. You know this without turning. You turn. The door is sealed. No handle. No seam. Only a rectangle slightly darker than the wall around it. A clock without hands is mounted at eye level. It ticks anyway. In the center of the room is a board set into the floor. Black and white squares. Perfectly even. A chessboard large enough to stand on. There is a desk made of glass along the far wall. On it rests a single sheet of paper. It wants a signature. You do not touch it. A tone sounds. It is calm. The board hums. Pieces rise from the floor. They do not slide into place. They emerge as if the room exhales them. Pawns first. Then rooks. Knights. Bishops. The King. The Queen. They arrange themselves. The tone sounds again. You understand without being told: it is your turn. You hesitate. The clock ticks louder. A sign fades into the wall beside the board. Stand here. Wait your turn. You step onto a white square. The room stills. A pawn moves on its own. The tone sounds. You are expected to respond. You choose a pawn. It is close. It seems harmless. You move it forward one square. The tone stops. The board hums. Nothing else happens. You wait. Another pawn advances. The tone sounds. You move again. The rhythm establishes itself. Tone. Move. Silence. You begin to anticipate. You think one move ahead. Then two. The board allows this. It does not resist. It simply answers. A bishop disappears. Not taken. Gone. You do not notice. Two turns later, a square darkens. The light narrows. The room feels smaller by a margin you cannot measure. You do not connect this to the bishop. The clock ticks. You keep playing. A knight vanishes. The hum deepens. The air grows denser. You adjust. You protect your King. You sacrifice a pawn. You gain space. The Queen is gone. You do not miss it yet. You will later. The board continues. You begin to understand the tones. One is for urgency. One is for error. One is for delay. You learn when to breathe. You learn when to wait. A rook disappears. The wall behind you warms. You turn. The door remains sealed. You play faster. You try to win. The board does not reward this. Three moves later, a row of squares becomes inert. You step onto one by habit. Your foot does not lift. The board holds you in place until the tone releases you. You stop rushing. You begin to watch. You notice that when a piece vanishes, the room changes later. Never immediately. Always delayed. Always proportional. You begin to count. One piece lost: light shifts. Two pieces lost: sound tightens. Three pieces lost: space contracts. The board is not punishing you. It is teaching you scale. You test it. You sacrifice a pawn. Nothing happens. You sacrifice another. The clock ticks louder. You sacrifice a third. The ceiling lowers by a breath. You recover a piece. The ceiling halts. You stop thinking about winning. You start thinking about cost. The board does not care about victory. It cares about consequence. A piece you save now will matter later. A move you make now will close a door you cannot yet see. You play more slowly. You let a knight fall because you understand what it will buy you. The room warms. The ticking softens. You learn that every square is a future. You learn that speed is not control. You learn that reaction is not choice. The tone sounds. You wait. Not because you are told. Because you see the board. You see the path your hand almost took. You see what it would have cost. You choose differently. The room exhales. The clock grows quiet. The door does not open. You are not finished. You make a move you have already lost. You see it this time. You do not take it. The board waits. The room waits. The tone does not sound. You move anyway. Not to escape. Not to win. To accept that every square you touch becomes the world that follows. The door unlocks without a sound.
By Tifani Power 7 days ago in Fiction
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