The first thing he ever sees is her swinging left orange Converse shoe; it’s dirty, scratched and doodled on. And he can’t stop staring. Romantic, pointless one-shot.

“Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have a boyfriend.” His eyes hardened at my confession. “Please don’t judge me,” I said and my hands shook. But he shook his head, smiled and grabbed my hand, “I wish that all the time.” - A short romance story.