“Was your bird's name, by any chance, named William?” “Uh… yeah, actually.” He’s blushing so hard right now. “Also, I know you named your bird. Was it, by any chance, named James?” “Uh… yeah.” “Hah! New it!” “Lucky guess.” I mutter. I check the time. My watch reads 2:04. “What time is it?” James asks. “2:04, dunno how time flew by that quickly.” “Oh, my father gets up at 2:30 to… do… something…? I honestly have no idea what he does at 2:30 am, but he usually ‘sneaks’ into my room to check if I’m sleeping, of which I am usually not, because he walks so loudly. I’d better get back to my house so he doesn't think something is off.” “Oh… ok, bye. I’ve probably got to get back as well.” “Yeah… maybe we can meet again?” “Yeah!” I get up to leave, and James, predictably, says “Carry meeeeee!” I say no but offer him my hand to help him get on his feet. He takes it and then doesn't let go. We glance at each other, me because, well, James just grabbed my hand, and James to make sure this is ok with me. I nod (as you may have guessed, this is more than ok with me, as in my brain is screaming JAMES IS HOLDING MY HAND AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!, but I’m trying really hard to make that part of my brain shut up so I don't explode with joy. I’m currently favoring the part of my brain that is saying yay, James is holding my hand!, for the reasons previously stated). We walk up to the intersection of Colonial street and Francis street (I live on Francis, he lives on Colonial) and say goodbye. We detangle our fingers and go to our separate houses.
Next: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1352882161/ First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1306637557/ Studio: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/51545451/ Ping List: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1289879064/
