Baker Street

(I began writing this story about a half hour ago and this is the beginning. Enjoy. =] )


    "It's over." she said.
    Two words, three syllables. An infinite amount of pain. As I laid on my back in the middle of my room, on the large blue rug that my uncle Sam gave me for my 12th birthday, I contemplated on the many times she had said those words before. After holding hands and making out through every movie we had seen together: "It's over." After every school year since the 9th grade: "It's over." Just as she beat me (as she always did) in a game of Frogger: "It's over."
    Yet never before had those two words, three syllables been used this way. They had been used after something, yes. To end something, never. However, this time she ended something. She ended us. With two simple words the past three years of my life were shattered.
    So I continued to lie there, on the large blue rug that my uncle Sam gave me for my 12th birthday, and began thinking about that little green Frogger frog trying to cross the street. Taking that risk and leaping into the middle of traffic. Not knowing whether he'll make it or not. As I thought about him I wondered if I was just like the frog. I took the risk. I leaped into traffic. But I didn't make it across the road. The speeding car that was Charlotte Adams ended me with one quick blow. It was over.