Smiling in Slow Motion

Cinderella washed her hair, and got well-prepared. She pretended to write her essay, but the clock could tell that she was preoccupied with something else. At least she was looking forward to something.

One hour later, she did concentrate on the text, because she knew the man clearly.
He must had been trapped , and he would tell her as always. There’s no need to find excuses. Maybe, it was not a proper time to meet each other now, but if it wasn’t , next time sould be a year later.
Cinderella felt a little blue, a little.

And then door bell rang, he delivered a few words to explain why. Cinderella couldn't call it a letter. It was, well, some words, and that's all. She was pleasure to read that; however, she couldn’t figure out whether it’s enough or not, so Cinderella just looked outside, sighed.

He left as fast as the wind. Next time, he might bring snow back but the sunshine. In fact, the “worst” situation was summer. Cinderella definitely knew, but she tried to ignore it.

She closed the window and kept finishing the essay til midnight as always.