“Alex!”, I called him without hesitation.
Then he stopped, looked at me for three seconds while smiling, “Yes?”
Alex was a good person. We talked a lot about stuffs. Seriously-excitingly fun stuffs that I like. Moreover, he smiled a lot. And not ugly, too. And I can’t forget his face, obviously.
Alex actually is a word written with white corrector pen ink on his black backpack. Since I walked behind him and I needed something to tell but my pride would hurt if I ask his name first so congratulation, his name is Alex for me. #highpridewonthurt
I didn’t care who the real Alex is until now. Until the picture of us laughing together suddenly popped up in my mind. Part of me is dying to know him more. Another part telling me to stop,
“Let him remains Alex forever, stupid! You can’t afford the other version.”