Lost in Time
She told me the same thing countless times already, seems like none of it is the real last time.
“I can’t—”
“Please, please, please,” she insisted then showed me her infamous puppy eyes.
I sighed once again. “When’s the party?” I asked, defeated.
“Eighteenth of July,” she enthusiastically answered. “Don’t worry, you won’t spend, not even a single penny, for your dress and makeup.”
“Cross out the makeup thingy, I don’t want it nor need it,” I said.
She clung her arms unto mine. “Just one night, Heizel. Please?”
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