Another Daydream.

She'd put up a sign.

It would say "Scream."

She'd put it up above the drinking fountain at school.

No one would know she's the one who put it up.

People would see it.

Most would think it was lame, wrong, why would you scream?

But it got to at least one person. One person got it.

He stood there, staring at the sign, knowing now that he wasn't the only one who wanted so badly to just stop and sit and cry. And scream.

He'd see her later in the week, sitting by the same water fountain she had put the sign up above.

"Scream." had been torn down by some brats.

The girl was crying because, even though she was the one who sent the message, she still couldn't open up her mouth and scream, or do anything , really.

He sat down next to her, next to the fountain.

And cried.

And they both did for a while then, no one stopping, no one laughing, no one pointing, but people passing. The only respect they got from people was being invisible.

He knew. No one knows how, but he knew she put the sign up the moment he sat next to her.

And they didn't let each other be alone until the final bell rang, and they could go their seperate ways, not speaking a word, not turning back, but everyday visiting each other at the same place. So they could get out at least a little bit of their screams.