Deep Hazel

Mary felt like she knew Ethan like the creases in her hands. It was strange to her. How could she feel more comfortable talking about intimate parts of her life to Ethan, and not to her own mother? She thought and thought about it, only coming to the conclusion that perhaps because she didn’t personally know him, it was as if she was talking to an inner voice inside her. It was like writing an ongoing journal to the void, not caring if anyone read it, just writing it for writing’s sake. It felt good to get those emotions onto a page and out of her head. The journal she kept was safely tucked away somewhere with Ethan. She kept his journal in her desk drawer, neatly stacked in piles by date. It was an ongoing journal with infinite pages to fill. The only difference was that someone on the other end was reading, commenting, and responding to her. Ethan was open, kind, thoughtful, and took an interest in Mary. What she found in Ethan, was a friend that would last her for a lifetime.