[Neji opened his locker to stuff his books inside, blinking as an envelope fluttered to the floor lazily. Placing his textbooks inside neatly, he leaned down, picking up the note and breaking the seal, blinking at the stationary and nervous, wobbly chicken scratch that was barely readable to him.]
...Well, if someone is going to write me something, they should at least make it readable... [Looks around, wondering if the author of said love letter is nearby.]
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What are you doing?
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...Well, if someone is going to write me something, they should at least make it readable... [Looks around, wondering if the author of said love letter is nearby.]
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