*~ Untitled Story That I Like So Muuuuuuchhh! :) :) :) Please Read :) ~*

by Lucky in the bathroom. You gotta go when you gotta go! :P

A/N: Hello! :) :) :) I know it's been long since I've posted a story, but, HERE IS ONE NOW! :) :D Okay, so the ending may seem a little depressing, but I really like it. Should I send it to my teacher? Here's why I am asking you that: There's a yearly book supplying the works of fellow writers and artists during the school year. Since I'm part of the club that makes it, I want to submit something REEAAALLLL bad :) Please give me your best CC, PLEASE, I need it, even if it's grammar! Please please please please! Thank you soooo much! And also, please give me title suggestions! Thank you guys! :)

I am lying on my back, shifting my feet on my pink cotton blanket, and stare at the ceiling. Up there, sloppily taped by still hanging, is a 30" by 55" picture of us--we are at the beach, you with your hand around my shoulders with a big grin on your face as I licked my strawberry ice cream on a cone. Remember that day, when you asked me to be your girlfriend? That was our first picture of us, standing as a couple.

That picture is the first thing I wake up to every morning, and the last thing I see before I go to bed every night.

I turn on my side and stare at my clock. 12:06 AM. I can't stop thinking about you.

I get off of my bed and shuffle to my bookcase. I pull out a thick red binder with a sticker saying "Memories" on the front. I slowly, almost hesitantly, turn the cover and see a large, blown up picture of us.

We are at the beach. You have a chocolate moustache on your lips, and dispite that, you're smiling. You have an almost-melted rocky road ice cream cone on your hand. Your hand is around my shoulder. My hand is around your shoulder. I am grinning from ear to ear.

I glance at the bottom of the picture. There are eight letters marked in black marker, and it reads: 07-19-2001. I slowly gather up all of my courage and look at the ceiling. A striking resemblance.

I throw the book down, angry and sad and rustrated at you. I don't recall my memory remembering that picture that day.

Why did you have to break up with me?

We've known each other since birth. We were perfect.

Remember how we held hands on my tenth birthday? Remember that first kiss? Remember how we used to sneak past our parents and walk three blocks in the dark just to say good night? (We didn't have cell-phones then, and it was after curfew.)

I lay open the book to that picture of us at the beach. I leave it on the floor and crawl on my bed. I lay sideways and rest my head on my hands. I stare at that picture for the rest of the night.

After all the tears I've been holding out ever since noon when you...dumped me..., only a single, crystal tear escapes my face. It slides down my cheek and settled on my chin. Before I could wipe it away, the tear fell on picture-perfect us.

I cry for the rest of the night.