811.

My heart was pounding. Only minutes elapsed, but in here, it felt like an eternity. I hated it—the waiting, the lack of presence. Yet, here was I was: terrified and hiding. My ear was plastered to the door searching for that familiar crinkle of paper again.

I cracked open the door. It was a mess of darkness; shadows mingled in secret corners. I couldn’t see a thing, but as I curled back into his arms, I could tell he was smiling. My heart damn near skipped a beat and, as it did, there was an echo. Our hearts both drumming. We didn’t need to say anything aloud that they weren’t already saying together.

After a moment, a crinkle broke our silence as he slid that piece of paper back into my hand. Even in the dimness of the room, I knew what it said.

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