Arthur didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but he had found your journal — that one that was so ripped and ruined from the constant use.

His eyes were stuck to the pages, stuck on your messy handwriting. The pages were filled with all kind of thoughts. Some that even worried him. Until he flipped to the most recent pages, they were all about him.

His eyes scanned the pages, the long drawn out sentences that made him think. Was he hurting you by not being there for you? He was so confused.