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I Want to Eat Your Pancreas

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She wants me to get the rice ready before she comes home. I tell her I will and hang up. ‡ˆ‘”‡ ”‡–—”–Š‡’Š‘‡–‘›†‡•ǡ ”‡ƒŽ‹œ‡•‘‡–Š‹‰ǣ Šƒ˜‡ǯ–•‘ —…Šƒ•–‘—…Š‡†–Šƒ–†‡˜‹…‡‹–™‘†ƒ›•Ǥ †‘ǯ––Š‹ ǯ˜‡„‡‡ ’—”’‘•‡ˆ—ŽŽ›ƒ˜‘‹†‹‰‹–ǡ Œ—•–Šƒ˜‡ǯ––Š‘—‰Š–ƒ„‘—–picking it up. If that Š‘Ž†••‘‡†‡‡’‡”‡ƒ‹‰ǡ–Š‡ †‘ǯ–‘™Ǥ I open the flip phone and scroll to the texts, then to the incoming ˆ‘Ž†‡”Ǥ‡”‘—”‡ƒ†‡••ƒ‰‡•ǤŠƒ–ǯ•Šƒ”†Ž›ƒ•—”’”‹•‡Ǥ‡š–ǡ Ž‘‘ƒ––Š‡ sent folder. Aside from calls, I see evidence of the last time I used the device. A text message I sent to the girl who had been my classmate. Just one sentence. †‘ǯ–‘™‹ˆ•Š‡‡˜‡”•ƒ™‹–Ǥ I consider going to the kitchen but instead flop back into bed. All I can think about is what I wrote to her. Did she ever see my message? I want to eat your pancreas. If she did see it, how did she take it? I fall asleep, still trying to find an answer. Š‡”‹…‡†‘‡•ǯ–‰‡–ƒ†‡—–‹Ž›‘…‘‡•Š‘‡Ǥ ǯ‘–•—”‡ǡ„—– –Š‹ ‡‡––Š‡girl in my dreams.