Journal Entry No. 17
He came back. The stranger, I mean. I don’t even know why I’m writing this.
God, it’s useless. He was kind of scary, breaking into my house and all, but when he came back…
he seemed genuinely concerned. I don’t know.
I liked how he looked at me. He seemed to like what he saw too…
but there was something else in his eyes.
Like we knew each other from another life or something.
No, that’s stupid. Why am I even writing this?
He gave me his phone number, and… it’s been sitting on my bedside table for hours now.
I, why do I want to call him? He’s a stranger.
What would we even talk about? He said to call if Ben comes back.
But could I call even without a reason? I haven’t dated in a year.
And he’s the only one who’s stirred something in me since I got away.
No. It’s ridiculous. I’m not calling him like some giddy teenage girl.
I’ll wait for… a sign. Right. If there’s a sign, I’ll call.
If not, I’m just grateful he was there this morning.
I sigh and close the notebook. Not too bad, for once, not a page of blanks or scribbled nonsense. I fold back the sheets and sink into bed. But something touches at my foot. Noah and his toys again. I ruffle the blanket and grab whatever it is.
A tiny, plastic black motorcycle.
Well, I did ask for a sign…didn’t I?