My boots crunched beneath me on the gravel road. There wasn't hardly anyone out here, so I went into the tour bus to straighten up my makeup and my hair.
I grabbed my makeup bag from underneath the single bed they had in the bus, which would be mine because I was the only female on the whole trip. Jon said if I would get back together with Richie, he'd probably sleep in that room with me.
I looked over at the night table and saw a picture frame tipped over, with a cracked glass covering.
I walked over to it, scooping it up in my hands. The frame was so shattered that I couldn't even see the picture. Taking away excess glass, I could see the picture of me and Richie. It was a picture of us in Paris last year, with Richie's arms wrapped around me.
I felt really emotional when I saw that. I don't know what hit me, but whatever it was, I couldn't stop it. I broke down crying. I was in need of Richie. I didn't want to fight, I didn't want to die. I just wanted plain and simple Richie. I knew that I loved him and Jon, but there was a place in my heart that Richie had left a mark on, and I couldn't get over it.
The door opened on the bus, so I hid in the closest. I didn't say anything, knowing that I didn't want anyone to see me cry.
There was a crack in the door, so I peaked out through it to see who was at the door. It was who I feared that it was, Richie.
He put his clothes under the bed and sat down. He looked down at the cracked photo frame that laid on the bed with the few shards of glass that laid in the way. He picked it up and studied it, and I could see the sadness in his eyes as he rubbed them.
He didn't say anything, but he grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and began writing. I watched him write every curl on the paper.
When he got done writing, he folded the paper up and laid it down on the shattered picture.
Then he walked out, leaving behind the note for me to read.
I waited a minute to make sure he wasn't coming back in for awhile, and then I got up and out of the closet.
I went across the room, eager to read his note.
I grabbed my makeup bag from underneath the single bed they had in the bus, which would be mine because I was the only female on the whole trip. Jon said if I would get back together with Richie, he'd probably sleep in that room with me.
I looked over at the night table and saw a picture frame tipped over, with a cracked glass covering.
I walked over to it, scooping it up in my hands. The frame was so shattered that I couldn't even see the picture. Taking away excess glass, I could see the picture of me and Richie. It was a picture of us in Paris last year, with Richie's arms wrapped around me.
I felt really emotional when I saw that. I don't know what hit me, but whatever it was, I couldn't stop it. I broke down crying. I was in need of Richie. I didn't want to fight, I didn't want to die. I just wanted plain and simple Richie. I knew that I loved him and Jon, but there was a place in my heart that Richie had left a mark on, and I couldn't get over it.
The door opened on the bus, so I hid in the closest. I didn't say anything, knowing that I didn't want anyone to see me cry.
There was a crack in the door, so I peaked out through it to see who was at the door. It was who I feared that it was, Richie.
He put his clothes under the bed and sat down. He looked down at the cracked photo frame that laid on the bed with the few shards of glass that laid in the way. He picked it up and studied it, and I could see the sadness in his eyes as he rubbed them.
He didn't say anything, but he grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and began writing. I watched him write every curl on the paper.
When he got done writing, he folded the paper up and laid it down on the shattered picture.
Then he walked out, leaving behind the note for me to read.
I waited a minute to make sure he wasn't coming back in for awhile, and then I got up and out of the closet.
I went across the room, eager to read his note.
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