The diary came on a Friday morning. It was a hideous, leather bound thing, huge. A ribbon bookmark was sewn into the binding and the pages were worn with wear.

'Her fingers rested here,' he thought. Lucas opened the diary slowly, gingerly. On the inside cover was a dried flower, a daisy. Above it, a note:

To Lucas. This is our story.

He could feel the ball rising in his throat, the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. He closed the diary. No, not yet.

He set it o his desk, staring at it with a sense of foreboding. He needed Peyton. He needed to talk to her.

He grabbed his phone and traveled to his bed, sitting on the edge.

He dialed quickly, effortlessly, as if it was second nature.

Her voicemail picked up automatically.

"Hey, this is Peyton. You know the drill…"
The beep roused Lucas out of his thoughts.

"Hey babe…I miss you." He paused and sighed. "I—I don't know what to do, I just…I need to hear your voice. I need you to call me back. I need you, goddamnit." He said quickly.

After a moment, he hung up.

She didn't call back.

……………………..

The diary sat there for days, weeks. It was the first thing his eyes fell upon when he entered the room, and the last thing his eyes saw before he turned off the lights at night.

His dreams were his memories.

"I have a surprise for you…" Her voice was like a song. "…and there is a surprise ending. So no cheating!" Now he realized she had been talking about her journal.

He sat up with a start, drenched in sweat…tears. He loved her. He lived for the nightmares she plagued on his while he slept. She was all and she was everything.

The next morning, he resolved to read it. He had promised, after all. Maybe then, then she could come back to him.