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by Sakura

 

 

Tall, she decides.  The one she is destined to meet must be taller than she is.  After all, her best friend (whom she secretly considered her sage on life) did say something about tallness being the default for proper kissing (which sounded ridiculous but could be the gospel truth, who knows?  She had never been kissed).  So she writes tall down on a sheet of paper, stares at it, then glances out the window. 

 

A couple holding hands walks by, books tucked under their arms.  The boy murmurs something in the girl’s ear.  Her sudden peal of laughter is a foreign, rich sound --- it rings throughout the dusky reading room, making people look up from their books, rousing some from their naps.

 

            She stares at the couple, long and hard, until they finally disappear from view.  The breeze gently carries the laughter away, ruffles the note tucked under her elbow.

 

            Tall, the note reads.

 

            She stares at it for a while.  Then, with determination, she draws a line through tall and writes beside it, in careful strokes: real.

 

 

 

 

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