The Contract Of The Story
Glamoureinapoem about meyour narrator real nametogether for years, but he didn't know my real identityhow can i write a poem about myself
I took a sip on the beer that Ethan brought, Shia sat beside him.
“Are you still writing?” he asks, he tried to look at my laptop but I closed it immediately before he see what I’m doing. Even Shia looked at me.
“No, I’m just doing my presentation,” I answer. Shia laughed a little, so I gave her a shut-up-look that made her cough to stop herself from laughing.
“She won’t let herself have a boyfriend if she’s still writing,” Shia says while she’s shaking her head.
“No wonder I couldn’t find your account that you used to use to post your pieces before,” Ethan says, I nodded and forced myself to smile.
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