Monday, July 15, 2013

92. In my room

She's... Dancing.

Slow circles around the small amount of floor space. Spinning from one side to the other with a controlled motion.

I laugh. Not at her, really. At the situation.

And then she laughs, as if to brush off some kind of embarrassment. But the colour's in her cheeks, and I've already seen it. So she asks if she should leave.

But I'm not complaining, am I.
Word Count: 68

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