You lost? She blinks once. How drunk did you have to be to hear the moon? You deaf too?, the moon asks – but it wasn’t the moon – a boy was sitting on the roof just outside the window. She sticks her head out for a better look. The moonlit boy shrugs and sinks back into his beanbag. Cool place you’ve got here. He scoffs, Ah, she speaks. She crawls onto the roof with him. The boy didn’t seem to mind, she thinks. The side of the house they were on was nowhere near the nauseating yard. Underoath played from a tiny speaker nearby. She winced at the fact that she knew the band, let alone the song. She sits where it wasn’t awkward – where she thought wasn’t awkward. She stared at him, staring at the moon, before staring back herself. Stare too long and you’ll get moon blinked. She saw the boy smirk, or maybe she imagined it. Now, if only your taste in literature was as good as your taste in company. She shrugs.
The moon continued to tell tales to the two still strangers under her light. It spoke as it trekked the sky, but the sun wasn’t far behind. Though La Lune’s tale was far from finished, the book was about to close. The moonlit boy stands to pick up the tiny speaker. Hey, I was listening to that. The boy nods then shrugs. He steps around the girl and slips back into the window. Hello, goodbye.
Word count: 250
The probable sequel, maybe. Read part one?