36. Home

"I still don't get why you're leaving." Boi is leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. I barely look at him as I continue to pack up my things. Looking around, I feel a creeping sadness. I will miss this apartment. I can't count the times in which I sulked here, hidden away from the world. I look at the things I stashed in here over the years.

"I'm really tempted to tell your Mom," Boi comments after I mee him with my silence. But I know he won't do such a thing. I had a long talk with him about my decision, and our agreement about keeping each other's secrets still stands.

"Feel free to sell any of this stuff," I tell him, stretching. I finally finish packing. And now, on to the thing that I dread doing.

I look at the pen and paper on the table. I plan on writing a letter to David. He had asked me once why I wouldn't write a letter to him. I told him it was because I didn't feel the need to. I wouldn't admit it to him, but as soon as I bought my first pho