Again, every Sunday Max would said that. I hated him for that. I hated pizza. Like forever. I hated pizza like you loath cockroaches. Max knew for sure that I hated pizza, that was why he did it. He made fun of me. There was no other person but us in our little house. With a little chuckle, he asked the laptop, walls, anything. I hated pizza, but I loved him.
“You know my answer,” I reluctantly said without a single glance.
Silence floated, I closed my book. I looked around. There was no Max. There was no pizza. Max had gone forever. It had been seven weeks since I mourned deeply over him in a very grey day.
There was no Max.
There was no pizza.
“Maaaax!” I screamed, with eyes full of tears.
Written for Mondays Finish the Story
Sorry for my poor english 😐