Dear Stranger

Talking to a stranger can really be scary, I know that and I'm also aware of the consequence of doing that. But, I felt like its different, way different than the stories I heard. there's no fear or uncertainty while I am being lulled to comfort by that someone. This story starts when I was still a Sophomore in High School and known as a prim and proper lady. My mom trained me to be one since I was can remember and it stuck to me like glue. my hair will always be tied in a tight bun on my head without a single strand falling down my face, my school uniform should always be ironed without any visible creases and I have to make sure not to have any dirt on my shoes. I also have to watch my weight and figure to look pristine. I know it's not much of torture but along with that are the restrictions of my social groups as well. I

He raised his eyebrows, surprised that I was talking to him. "How old are you? Are you living here? Where? I've never seen you before. Did you just move into the neighborhood? If yes, when? Where did you come from before moving here? Where are you studying, I mean, what school are you attending? Do you have any siblings? How many? What are you-" "Whoa! Whoa! Slow down." He interjected. "Why do I feel like I am being interrogated so early in the morning?" I pursed my lips before murmuring. "Sorry." He sighed. "Okay, first and foremost, I'm not going to say any details about me because you're a stranger and at the same time, I'm also a stranger to you." He said, a matter-of-factly. "Didn't your parents told you to not speak to stran

I lost sleep that night, the fight went on until the early hours of the morning and the stranger made sure that I entered my house safely before he walked home. I can't help but suppress a smile as I lay on my bed thinking about what just happened. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I let my pillow mute my squealing.  my mind conjured his face, how it looks and how pretty he seems to be. My face couldn't help but turn red just by replaying our interaction again and again. The morning came and I still wasn't able to sleep yet I feel energized as I was preparing to start my morning, putting my school uniform on and tying my hair in my usual bun, I tried to make myself as pretty as possible, powdering my face diligently and carefully putting my lipgloss on before skipping towards the dining room. It was an absolute mess. The destruction of the fight was still evident in the room. The plates are all broken, the table overturn