Misfits

It’s a minute before 11 pm.

This is the hour where Susan ends up talking to Jon. With a sinking feeling on her stomach, she knows that she would not be able to talk to him. He had said his good night, because Jon has someone else now.

Susan, was more likely, only a friend. She wishes that she was something more to Jon. Like the novels she had read. That two best friends had come into the conclusion that they were made for each other. But she was neither a best friend nor that something else more. She was just a friend. Jon looks at her as his friend who stays close by him, who is supportive at his every move, who was there when he needed advice about his love life.

Susan had those emerald eyes and her black hair. She looked so pretty that maybe if Jon looked a little closer, he would know that she was prettier than the girl he spends his hour right now. Jon was rather, a perfect term for a guy you would want to date in bookstores. On coffee shops. He looked lively, but he spoke so gentle that you would think that he would catch you. He was perfect. He was a photographer, who would continuously picture Susan whenever they went out on friendly dates. Susan would remember how he smiles whenever she covers her face. On her birthday, he gave her a collage full of her stolen shots. Back then Jon would stare at his masterpieces for hours and smiled. He had wished that Susan knew how pretty she was.

Susan looks at the collage and averts her eyes from it. It was 11:11 now. She breathes and looks at the picture of them together.

She wishes.

And cries.