“They call it a catwalk when you’re walking down the street. And it calls to me that regret is a curse that can’t be cured. I watch you walk by—unseen & unheard,” a boy mumbled as he wrote in a bent notebook.

Condensation fogged up the windows and left the customers in the coffee shop feeling insulated from the winter’s breath. “Shit,” he scribbled another line before chewing on his pencil. The cheap wood splintered in his mouth as a beanie-clad girl stumbled in the door, shaking snow off her boots before heading to the counter. Adrian froze. His broken pencil forgotten. She wasn’t supposed to be here.

He tried to watch without being obvious. But being sixteen years old and subtle has never mixed. The girl saw him and gave a small wave before heading to her own table. He tried not blush, but the sun had more chance of rising the next day than that.

The next hour passed with more time spent rubbing his eyes and greasing up his hair than writing. The girl glanced over at Adrian a couple times before leaving the shop. He sighed and packed up his stuff. She knew about the note. She had to know.

There was no way they were going to let him back into school once she told them.