Disclaimer: I obviously do not own slamdunk, or else I wouldn't be writing this.
LETTERS
I've always used a pen, because with ink, you can't erase a single word you've written. You can try to cover it up, white it out, tear it to pieces, but the silhouette of prints will still cling to the paper, staining the white pages as a reminder of every thought that's ever crossed your head.
This was one of those moments where I wished I had used lead. Because then I would, could take back everything that happened, erase it, only to be left with scars of indentations tainted in gray coals of shadows.
I never thought of why I started to write. Or how I left my notebook that day. I only worried about who would find it, and if he would actually turn a page to read.
I realized I was wrong. You can erase ink. Just burn the pages and it'll break itself into airy petals of dust, all in the same color there's no front or back.
I wish I had a lighter back then.
Then all of this would just be a blank page and we wouldn't have to meet.
Notes:
I decided to take out "The Missing Piece" because I felt that it only had one interesting idea behind it, and so I decided to take the main inspiration of that story, and mold it into an entirely different one. If you know "The Missing Piece" then you already know who it is.