Monday, September 28, 2009

(working on book)

-a She smiled from the table across from me, and I almost just gaffawed. She's looking at ME? He bowed graciously from the side of the table, mouthing, "I'm not worthy." When he looked back up, she was giving him a black stare. Her perfectly lined eyes were eminating their thick mascara hatred right at him. He could almost feel the room heat up. But then her purple eyes fell back down to the paper and followed her hand as it jotted down her unspoken conversation. Many people's handwritting, especially teenagers, were especially sloppy, usually chicken scratches. But her hand writing was like caligraphy, true art. She turned the paper to the right a bit as she wrote, laying a hand down to keep it from moving. Even if it was just a note, he could tell she was a very languid person, using a very smart vocabulary like Irk, or perogative. Smart words like that.

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