Author's P.O.V
Malison wasn’t proud of how things had gone with Annie.
She knew she and Gabby had been cold—deliberately so. But the guilt still clung to her like smoke, thick and suffocating. She missed Annie’s weird jokes, her way of tilting her head when she didn’t understand something, her mother's delicious food packs, even her annoying obsession with matching her pens to her mood.
But if she were being honest with herself—which she was trying very hard not to be—she had pushed Annie away for a reason. Annie has shut her out and they wanted her to have a taste of her own medicine.
Plus Annie had a way of noticing things. And Malison couldn’t risk being seen right now.
She sat cross-legged on the empty classroom floor, laptop balanced on her knees, the cursor blinking on a fresh document she had titled: "Fragments of Something I'm Not."
It was supposed to be fiction. A story. Something vague and poetic about a girl who kissed another girl and couldn’t stop thinking about it. Mal
