[align=center][div style="background=transparent; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 400px; line-height:105%; text-align: justify"][size=11pt]( 2 ) You loved when your parents let you go to the market, even better, when they gave you extra money to get your favorite candy! The day only gets better as your friend arrives and they’re in the red hoodie that they always wear. You smile, giggling. “Hey! I’m going to the store to get candy!” And milk for your mom but you do that often because for some reason they want to establish some sort of independence in you iand this is the only way.
“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I join you?” Your friend asks, stuffing their hands in his pockets and you nod ecstatically, talking to them as you continue along, your hands now mirroring theirs, in your pockets and it’s only subconcious at this point that you copy them because they’re your best friend and don’t people want to be like their best friends?
You talk the whole way there, never noticing the eyes that follow. But for some reason, you get those often.
“Can I get something?” Your friend pleads after you get the milk and start to browse the candy section. They always want something that’s yours and when you actually have enough to share that’s fine, but there is only 1.50 your mom has given you and that’s not enough for two.
“Maybe next time.” You reach for some snickers, but your friend insistently points to the reece cups. “No! I don’t want those!” You exclaim, visibly annoyed but your friend always has a way to make you crack and again, they insist, and finally you cave snatching the reece cups stomping to the register with the milk and stupid reece cups in stow but at least they’re satisfied.
“Are you okay?” The clerk is both confused and concerned on how a boy could change his tune so quickly as he’d just come in as happy as could be. You don’t answer, though becuase your mom is adamant on you not talking to strangers but you’ve known Mr. Doyer going on three months.
He isn’t the type to push you, instead ringing up your things. As he does so you look over at your friend, who is smug. “Stop looking at me like that!” Mr. Doyer looks up. He thinks you’re talking to him, but when he sees your eyes are anywhere but, he looks concerned.
“Who you talking to son?” He asks, giving you the bags. And again, you don’t answer, just take them opening the door for your friend. Half way home, you’re no longer mad and reece cups are suddenly better than they used to be and you’re happy because he doesn’t want his anymore.
“Best friends forever?” They ask. You only nod
“Well, I hope you don’t mind if I join you?” Your friend asks, stuffing their hands in his pockets and you nod ecstatically, talking to them as you continue along, your hands now mirroring theirs, in your pockets and it’s only subconcious at this point that you copy them because they’re your best friend and don’t people want to be like their best friends?
You talk the whole way there, never noticing the eyes that follow. But for some reason, you get those often.
“Can I get something?” Your friend pleads after you get the milk and start to browse the candy section. They always want something that’s yours and when you actually have enough to share that’s fine, but there is only 1.50 your mom has given you and that’s not enough for two.
“Maybe next time.” You reach for some snickers, but your friend insistently points to the reece cups. “No! I don’t want those!” You exclaim, visibly annoyed but your friend always has a way to make you crack and again, they insist, and finally you cave snatching the reece cups stomping to the register with the milk and stupid reece cups in stow but at least they’re satisfied.
“Are you okay?” The clerk is both confused and concerned on how a boy could change his tune so quickly as he’d just come in as happy as could be. You don’t answer, though becuase your mom is adamant on you not talking to strangers but you’ve known Mr. Doyer going on three months.
He isn’t the type to push you, instead ringing up your things. As he does so you look over at your friend, who is smug. “Stop looking at me like that!” Mr. Doyer looks up. He thinks you’re talking to him, but when he sees your eyes are anywhere but, he looks concerned.
“Who you talking to son?” He asks, giving you the bags. And again, you don’t answer, just take them opening the door for your friend. Half way home, you’re no longer mad and reece cups are suddenly better than they used to be and you’re happy because he doesn’t want his anymore.
“Best friends forever?” They ask. You only nod
[align=center][font=arial][I]so, i heard the world doesn't revolve around me /:
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