Imaginary

Dear Parker,
          I don’t think I can stay here much longer. My parents are talking about moving to a whole other state.
          Why can’t we meet? I’ve written to you every day for almost two years. I need you now more than ever. Please?

Love, Gloria

         Gloria tucked the newly written note into her pocket, before heading out into the crisp morning air.
         She always left a note for Parker, every day since she found his first letter. She could still remember reading the crumbled up piece of paper she found behind her house, and how perplexed she had been. “My name is Parker,” it had said, “please write back. Leave your letter where mine was.”
         And she did. She left a reply note telling him her name, and came back the next day to find his reply. “Hello, Gloria. Nice to meet you. May I ask you a favor? Please don’t tell anyone about me. I’m an orphan, and I don’t want to be discovered.”
         She never told a soul.
         And after a few letters, she formed a strong bond with her inky friend. Her letters went from short and choppy to long and complex; she explained her life to him, and told him about her life and how hard her school was, and about times when she wished she were invisible. Parker told her about his life, too; about living on his own and having to fight just to find a bite of food. He told her about his old parents, and how they had hated him and cast him out on his own at the age of fifteen.
         But everytime she told him to come to her house, to sleep on her couch instead of in the streets, he refused, saying he wasn't good enough. She thought of that as outragous, but he was stubborn about it, and she couldn't convince him.
         Mostly, though, they talked about themselves. She told him everything about herself, her favorite colors and foods, the clothes she wears, things she hates about the world and things that make her laugh. And he told her the same. After a year, his letters began to end in love instead of from. Love, parker. Love, Gloria.
         She loved him. Oh, how she loved him! Everyday she would race behind to find he reply, her heart aching to read his neat hand writing, to read more about him, to tell him more about her.
         And now, after all this time, there was the possibility that she was to be taken away from him. And she wanted to meet him so badly it hurt.
         She came back the next day to find her reply.

Dear Gloria,
         All right, we can meet. Please be here at six O’ clock tonight. I’m looking forward to it.
Love, Parker

         She stared at the paper in shock.
         And when she came at six o’ clock, in her church dress with her frizzy black hair put up neatly in a ponytail, she did not find the mysterious boy her age she was looking for; instead, she found another letter.

         I’m sorry, Gloria. I can’t keep pretending I’m real. I’m sorry I lied. I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted to be normal, meet someone normal. You shouldn't have ever gotten to know me, and I should have never let you. I have to go. I'm sorry...
For the final time, Parker

         She fell to the ground sobbing.
And this is how she lay, for at least an hour, crumpled on the musky concrete ground with her head in her hands and her heart at her feet. The pure shock was dizzying; but when the truth finally kicked in, she was giddy with grief. The only true friend I have ever known. The only one that loves me for me. I love him... He's gone...
         "I'm sorry, Gloria," a distant voice interrupted her sobs. She didn't even lift her head.
         "You should be," she whispered coldly, her voice breaking twice. She assumed that the voice was her going crazy, and didn't think too much of it.
         "I'm trying to protect you, the voice said, this time stronger, bolder, closer. It was a deep male voice, that seemed to glide across the evening air as if made of wind. This time, she lifted her head, her face covered in salty tears, her eyes bloodshot. She didn't see anyone.
         "I'm... going... mad. I can't stand it... I can't stand he's gone! I'm a worthless... low... filthy... pleading... virmin!" Gloria almost screamed, bunching her hair up in her hands and rocking back and worth.
         She felt a hand on her shoulder. "You're none of that," she voice said, this time earthly and full. "Please, please don't cry; it's torture." She quickly turned her head, to see a boy towering over her, his face distorted in shadows. She blinked, and before she knew it, she was lifted off of the ground my her arm, and embraced in a powerful hug. Her whole body went tense, but somehow, she couldn't break away; instead, she put her face on his chest, breathing in the smell of his cologne. This was him, she suddenly knew. Another sob escaped her lips.
         "I'm sorry," he whispered in her ear. "I can't. I can't see you. I can't put you in that kind of danger." She felt his muscles tense, and he broke away, taking a step back and lowering his head as if in shame. Gloria stood there, speechless. She struggled to see his face, but it was dark, and there was only a blinking streetlight a few yards away.
         There was a long, torturing silence, until Gloria managed to utter, "why?"
         She saw his shadow shake its head. "I'm terrible," he mumbled. "I should have never come here. I don't belong in this world, Gloria. I shouldn't be in front of you right now, and I definately shouldn't have ever come back... And I'm s-"
         "Don't say it," Gloria cut in. "Don't say you're sorry again. Just explain to me what you're talking about." She stood there, planting her feet on the ground, crossing her pale shivering arms. Though he was like a shadow, she was the exact opposite; her skin glowed with even the smallest bit of light.
         "Gloira..." he paused, taking in her questioning, fearful gaze. He took in a deep breath, taking a step back. She took a step forward.
         "You wouldn't believe me," he said bluntly.
         "You'd be suprised," she fired back at him. He started, putting his hands in his pockets.
         "I... I'm a... You don't... You'll just have to see for yourself, okay?"