Thursday, March 31, 2011

perspective - Creative Writing

what a strange boy he is. he looks so puzzled all the time. the looks he gives me make me look at myself. i must have my fly down or ketchup on my shirt or mascara all over my face. why else would he give me that look? so direct. his eyes, steady and intent, aren't anything like the person they're attached to. he can't sit still. fidgeting and shuffling papers. it's annoying! why does he keep looking over? I'm getting mad now. why is he acting like this? judging. no doubt he's laughing at my discomfort. i storm out to the bathroom. the mirror says i don't have anything in my teeth, no stains, no misplaced hair. why does he torment me then? as i slide back to my desk, his eyes follow me. a note on my desk. from HIM. why can't he leave me alone? it will be a rude note. i know it. i open it, glaring. i am met by three words
i like you
i look up, and a different boy is sitting at his desk. the boy blushes.

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