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I lay my head on my desk. Impatient, just waiting for the bell to ring. 30 minutes, each second taking an hour. I breathe in the sweet scent of vanilla that fills the air around me.I'm thinking about him. Wishing he was still mine.
The teacher is talking a million miles per hour. I think I’m supposed to be taking notes.
“Jazzelyn,” He says quietly, close to me, “Do you need to call home?”
I nod then grab my things and walk out of the classroom. I walk towards the office quickly; it’s just around the next corner. I turn the corner and run into someone, but I really don’t know who. I think my head hits the ground too hard when I fall or something.
I wake up and stare at blank white space, maybe I’m dead. Or Not, I think as I feel the velvet of the couch in my living room underneath me. I never noticed that our ceiling was so white.
“Jazz?” I hear someone say from across the room somewhere, “Are you up?”
“Yeah,” I reply without taking my eyes away from the ceiling.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know someone else was going to walk around that corner. I should have been walking slower. I’m sorry.” The voice says, just a little bit closer.
Suddenly I recognize the voice. My heart jumps and then I begin to cry.
“Why are you here?” I ask carefully. Like it hadn’t hurt enough to have him break my heart and then walk away?
“I’m sorry,” He answers as he sits on the floor beside the couch.
“You still say sorry too much.” I state blankly as I turn onto my side to look at him. Each dirty blonde piece of hair perfectly in place. His perfect blue eyes caught on me.
“Sorry,” He laughs, “oops.”
He’s smiling. I’m glad that he’s here.
I walk to my locker, smiling for the fist time in a month. He sat with me on the bus this morning. He kissed me this morning. He said sorry too many times this morning. I can’t believe he’s mine again.
I didn’t go to school this morning. Mom says that we’re visiting the hospital. I’m a little worried.
“He asked for you.” Mom mumbles as she stares at the road in front of her.
I look at her. I’m confused.
We’re at the hospital. A doctor is leading us to a room. He’s saying something about there being only an hour left. They think. I think I’m totally blank.
We walk into the room that the doctor brings us to. Everything is almost as white as my ceiling, or maybe whiter.
I see him. He’s laying on one of those awful hospital beds. I think I’m crying. I’m not really sure, but I know he is.
I walk towards him. As I get to his side he takes hold of my hand. He tells me that the doctors say that his heart is failing. They say he doesn’t have long to live. He tells me that I’m his medicine. That he will get better. That we will run away together.
“I love you,” He whispers weakly as his heartbeat slows to a stop. Gone.