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-Daisy- Other people wouldn't have called her beautiful. She was very pale, and her hair was a bit messy. She didn't wear what other girls wore: those skinny jeans, tank tops, hair ribbons. No, she wore black dresses, and boots. Not much else. No overwhelming jewelry, no styling of her straight, brown hair, no makeup. She walks on the beach a lot, sometimes with her boots, sometimes barefoot. I've noticed that she likes the sand between her toes. When the sand is wet, and clings to her feet like shoes, she smiles. She doesn't look at the ocean, not really. It's not the water she loves. No, she looks at her feet, at the sand. She danced in it once. I think I love her.
-Susan- Everyone would have called her beautiful. She was lightly tanned, and her hair was short and curly. It flew behind her when she ran. She did enjoy running. She wore pretty sundresses, just barely more yellow than her hair, highlighted by the sun. She liked to tie yellow ribbons to her wrists and arms, so they would float when she moved, when the wind blew them behind her. They were like her hair. She likes running without shoes, I suppose. Sometimes she wears sandals. She almost always smiles. She loves grass under her feet. She loves daisies. I want to talk to her. I want to ask her what she sees in greens and yellows. She'd probably tell me they were peaceful. I wish I could be peaceful.
-Daisy- I saw her looking at me once. She stood on the sand, staring past the sharp rocks of the sea, up at the grassy hills just beyond them. I stopped running, standing at the very top of the tallest hill. I felt myself begin to blush, and my heart felt like it would break my chest. Breathe. Calm your heart. I closed my eyes to think, then opened them again, willing myself to look at her. But she had already left, walking down the sandy path. For a moment, my heart broke.
-Susan- I walked briskly, trying to get away from her, from the idea of her, the memory of my own staring. How stupid could I get? I just hadn't been able to stop myself. When I saw her... It was impossible for me to look away from her. Don't blame me for that. It’s not my fault that I’m so drawn to her. How could it be my fault? I just want to be able to talk to her. Maybe, if I talk to the girl whose radiance made even someone like me happy, I could finally find some peace to settle the chaos of my thoughts.
-Daisy- I didn’t see her for days. She wasn’t at the beach. I felt sort of silly for needing to see her. But how could I help it? I loved her.
-Susan- I stayed home for days. I was scared of seeing her, and, at the same time, scared of not seeing her. Scared of going to the beach and her not being there. But at the end of the week, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I didn’t bother to wear shoes. I just ran.
-Daisy- One day, as I sat on my hill – I felt too tired to run, I had almost no energy at all anymore – I heard someone running. I looked over my shoulder, and saw my girl, my walker of the beach, my dancer. Her chest rose and fell with her rushed breath. I was shocked to see her, much closer to me than she’d ever been before. She held out her hand, still trying to catch her breath. “My name is Susan.”
FN Pixie · Mon Aug 02, 2010 @ 09:00pm · 0 Comments |
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