Capsulating You
A/N: So to tone down my supposed humor-I present to thee: DRAMA.
Or is it?
. . .
A once a year ritual.
When I still lived in the orphanage I had to do it. And I hated it. But surprisingly sitting down and placing a year's worth of seemingly important things into a box has stuck with me. The boxes (all fourteen of them-starting at age five) sit on the floor of my linen closet stacked up and organized by ascending year.
I have never really had to second guess anything that belongs in the box. Papers I happened to be particularly proud of. The occasional ticket stub from whenever Motoki dragged me to the theater. Even random things I bought at random spurs of the moment.
But now I have a predicament.
Motoki being the only one who knows about my ritual gave me a photo to be stored away. A very important photograph. It had been taken months ago and I honestly had forgotten about it.
The glossy paper almost mocks me. That, of course, may just be a me problem.
Usagi smiles at me from the photograph. Her blonde hair contrasts drastically against my dark hair. I am looking at her, bewildered at the fact she is so close and so happy to be with me.
Motoki just so happened to have a camera, him being him. I think he had a project given to him in one of his classes. Something about studying the people around him.
Naturally Usagi and I had to be included.
But the last thing I could have expected happened. Out pictures had been taken together.
My blond friend explained how we (Usagi and I) are pretty much always together. Bickering, but together.
The picture, however, portrays a separate side of our relationship. A side where we actually place nice.
What the hell.
I toss the picture on top of the pile of things. This day does hold importance. It shows maybe, just maybe- we can be more than just enemies.
. . .
A/N: I know it's not much- but this is just something short and sweet for the week!
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