She used to have the habit of writing a diary.
It was simply unthinkable.
She looked up at it.
The handwriting was beautiful but a bit childish, looking at the date, it was from nine years ago.
The first sentence of the diary, carrying a touch of girlish naivety, read: "I swear, I will never bring breakfast for Maxwell Hughes again!!"
The exclamation marks were heavily drawn, bold and enlarged.
Violet Taylor: …
Who would have thought I used to be so willful?
But… breakfast?
Nine years ago, it should have been during middle school, right? She was bringing breakfast to school for Maxwell Hughes then?
What kind of routine was this?
She continued reading and saw complaints filled with youthful emotion:
"Damn Maxwell Hughes, stinky Maxwell Hughes.
I kindly made him breakfast, brought it to school for him, and he said he was full!! Full!!! Then, wasn't it pointless for me to wake up so early and make breakfast for him?
I was so angry!!"
Violet Taylor: …
