Blank eyes stare violently through the glass window. A single tear falls to the floor breaking apart as it hits. As quickly as it hits the floor it is absorbed, as if it was never there, as if that tear hitting the ground didn't cause a butterfly effect halfway across the world, as if it slamming its body into the wood below didn't shatter the sound barrier causing the walls to scream out in agony over the floor shuttering and crying in its melancholy tone.
Dezmond looked longingly out his window, across the street and into the top window of his bestfriends house. Charlotte's room was full of Dezmond's drawings, GreenDay posters, and her favorite movie quotes...She never had been into pink things, into what people refer to as "girly" things, and that's probably why the two of them got along so well. There never was that gap between their interests as normal friends have. If it weren't for the fact that Dez's hair was blonde and Cece's was red they could have easily been cloned, their faces were so similar, their interests were nearly identical. They loved the same foods, hated the same songs...they both even had the same least favorite shape...the square, they always said it was bland, overused, and overrated. They often referred to people that were popular at school as being square, big, bland, overrated squares. Their favorite shape was an oval, it was just so imperfectly perfect, not quite a circle, but then again, was it necessarily anything? An oval was simply an oval, not overused, not overrated. Their friendship was without a doubt an imperfect oval, with waves, and curves...and now...after today, forver, completely, and imperfectly broken.