Novel & Cerita A Little Space

"You know I want to give you the world." "I don't need the world." She turned and pressed her hands to his chest. "I just want something a little more closed off. How about the last apartment we looked at?" "What?" His face registered the shock that must have been racing through his veins. "It was half the size of this one. Insanely tiny." "Yes, and it had a living room, a kitchen and a bedroom that were all separated from each other. I liked it." She shrugged and brushed her breasts across his chest, teasing him. "Besides, it wouldn't take much to break each room in, together."

I murmured, my breath catching in my throat. His face was too close. If I turned my head right now, our noses would touch. I could see the slight golden flecks in his eyes and the small, easy smirk playing on his lips. I tried to tell myself to relax. He probably didn't see this as a big deal, straight guys were always like this especially the jocks. They had zero concept of personal space once they got comfortable with someone. They wrestled in the locker rooms, slapped each other's backs, and sat too close on couches. It didn't mean anything to them, but it meant a lot to me because I wasn't straight.

I continue casually, turning my attention back to my phone, “I have school to occupy me soon. I won’t need your attention.” I scroll through my screen and hold it out toward him. “You remember I’ve been checking some apartments and I found one.” He looks down at my phone reluctantly. “This is for my master’s program,” I explain. “I’ll be traveling soon, remember?” His eyes scan the listings. Small studio apartments. Shared spaces. Student housing options. His frown deepens. “These places are too small,” he says immediately. “They’re okay,” I reply calmly. “They’re cheap,” he says flatly.

How did he see so much? "Because it was easier than fighting," she muttered. "How did he look at her for one day and understand things she'd spent years trying to hide?" Because perhaps they would love me at last if I made myself small enough. The admission lingered between them. Leon's face softened. Just barely. Just enough. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he said. But his voice was gentle. "People don't love you more when you're small. They just take up more space."

As soon as we were inside it, she stepped away from me, and I pretended not to notice the way she tried to wipe tears away from her eyes. While she got her emotions under control, I looked around the tiny room. It was barely big enough for a bed, a desk, and one of the smallest fridge/freezer combination appliances that I had ever seen. On the left side of the room two doors led to other tiny rooms. One was one of the smallest bathrooms that wasn’t even big enough for a tub. The only things inside were a shower, a sink, and a toilet. The other door led to the closet that was so small you could not even step inside it. This was how Naomi had been living all this time?

"She plays with that scar on her neck all the time when she talks. I can tell it's absentminded but still, it hurts me." "It means nothing most of the time and sometimes it means she's deep in thought. Others that you're on her mind either in a good or bad way I was never able to get out of her." We'd come to the small house that was empty only in the fact that no one lived there at the time. The large packhouse was yards away filled with gardens for food, flowers, and cooking herbs with scattered homes throughout. I came into the house to see Ace, Nate, and Noel in a small little group in front of a fire going even though the weather wasn't cold outside yet.

I grab my small note from the counter before walking towards them with a smile. This tiny little weasel!

I went to a party I didn’t particularly want to go to because my roommate at the time begged me and I was trying to be the kind of person who said yes to things. Marcus Webb was there. Marcus was on Cole’s team, quiet, tall, the kind of person who stands near the wall at parties because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands either. We ended up talking for an hour about a documentary we’d both seen. Nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. He walked me back to my dorm at the end of the night because it was late and I had told him I didn’t like walking alone after dark and he was a decent person.

Instead, I live in a little shoebox where I can’t have a guest stay over because we will be in each other’s way. It’s all one small room with a tiny kitchenette and a shower curtain sealing off the bathroom, barely enough space for a bed, a one-seater couch, and a minuscule closet. I could take my bra off at the end of a tiresome day and accidentally drop it in the kitchen sink basin.

Everyone crowded closer, unable to hold back their curiosity. On the bank statement, there was only a single deposit of 1,300 dollars. That lone transaction sat there like a blade, slicing straight through the carefully woven lies of Nancy and her son. The entire room fell into silence. The guests' expressions shifted from scorn toward me to shock and doubt directed at the Jones family. Then, the whispers started again, swelling like a rising tide. "Oh, my God! It really is only 1,300. Not 130,000? Nancy, why would you tell such a lie?"