35

A diary hidden behind other books. I opened it and started reading and it was full of beautiful letters to an unknown person. Someone wrote it to a beautiful girl, and the writer was clearly male.

Shaking me from my thoughts, Matt came out as he slammed the door behind his back.

“What are you doing?” He burst out his anger at me.

“I am reading this journal. Who is this? It’s beautiful,” holding the diary I questioned.

Matt’s eyes popped open wide, and he snatched his diary from my hand.

“How can you touch somebody’s stuff without asking?” he snorted.

I looked at him with shock, not expecting his anger to spill over on me.

“I’m sorry.”

Looking into my worried eyes, he regretted the very next moment he yelled at me.

“It’s mine,” he added.

A smile reached my eyes when I heard he wrote all those letters and poems.

“Are you in love with someone? Only a person who is in love could write so beautifully,” I excitedly said.

“I am not in love with someone, and even if I am, I would not tell