Early in the morning – a random one - I was afraid. Afraid of waking up from a beautiful dream.

It was, as expected, about you. About us. Again.

In the dreamland, it’s where we are the closest. We are the happiest. Unreachable.

But I am the only one who knows that.

You don’t have a clue – at least you don’t seem to have one – has this thought ever crossed your mind? I can’t do anything but to hope you notice. No, not only notice – I’d hope you understand and – that’s a lot to wish for – feel the same fastened heartbeat as I do.

I think of you a lot more than I guess I should – I’m starting to doubt it’s even healthy. I can’t help it. (This is starting to sound like a letter to you. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it won’t make it to its destiny – your hands. I’ll probably just throw this paper away after I finish writing down these weird sensations inside of me. Why did I have to write that last sentence? I don’t know. I never know the reason of many small things I do. I just like to do them. Oh, this turned out to be a huge ‘note’ between parentheses. Anyway, let’s go back to what really matters.)

I thought of you when the autumn leaves fell. We’d small-talk about the weather. We are always talking about the weather in this city – I guess it’s a good topic for a conversation, even if it sounds boring. Some people hate it. I don’t. I don’t when it’s with you.

I thought of you when the winter came as well. How I could have a good opportunity of warming you somehow – offering you my coat, my gloves or whatsoever. Maybe even my embrace. And, at that moment, you would smile at me. Shine that bright, beautiful smile you’ve got, for me. Yes, that would be… perfect.

I thought of you when the spring came. You’re not from this town, so you were amazed by the pretty, exotic flowers from our neighborhood. They only last a few weeks of September. It really is something to see. It made me smile – nature at its prettiest form. Yet, what has me smiling even wider is simply looking at you, and how you are so… you.

I know I’ll think of you when summer is over. Christmas time is here. But I’m not feeling the spirit, I’m not exactly happy. The reason is predictable – you are not going to be here. You are leaving to visit your parents in your hometown. You’ll be gone too soon – the closer the day gets, the more I miss you.

But you probably miss your family more than you’ll miss me.

I should stop these thoughts. Yet I cannot. I have a lot of questions I want to ask.

     Fany-ah. Do you promise to come back? For me… would you?

[blurred ink]I love you… wish you could see it. [/blurred ink]

Fany-ah…

…Will you miss me?

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This story is short, as I mentioned. It could end here, but I'll post the rest if you, readers, would like to :)