Calling attention through their flutters.
The wet streaks had damaged the perfect make-up.
She would have to wipe it all off,
Completely.
Start over.
Re-Apply.
How many more times?
I did it all for him.
I don't know if he's even going to show up.
I never know.
Do you think I'm still pretty?, she whispered.
Yes. Still. On the outside.
And I just don't want to hear about you stealing from her.
I don't even want to know that you look at her.
I don't want to hear the stacks stacking comparisons you make of her.
All so plain and dulled....no lights could still possibly dance there.
Doesn't matter, lights just dance for themselves.
Over a Mexican Coke, he said:
Tastes like childhood, doesn't it?
No, it doesn't.
Because, the best parts of that history never repeat themselves.
